


dating & other disasters

by lolainslackss, moonix



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A whole lot of coffee, Accidental Bedsharing, Actor Neil, Clothes Sharing, Dancing, Eden's Twilight, Fake Dating, First Dates, Friendship, Life-ruining crushes, Lowkey Jealousy, M/M, Mom Friend Kevin Day, Neil's collection of fantastically ugly crockery, No Exy AU, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Poetry Slams, Slow Burn, Student life vibes TM, Wee bit of Shakespeare on the side, Writer Andrew, art school au, roommates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-10-08 08:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17383520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolainslackss/pseuds/lolainslackss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix
Summary: Andrew thought it couldn't get any worse than having to watch Neil go on disastrous date after disastrous date with other people. Until Neil had the bright idea that they should fake date to mess with their friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here, the collab we have been collabing on for the past months! We hope you enjoy! No idea yet how often chapters are gonna get posted or how long it's going to be but we have a bunch of stuff written already and hopefully your comments will motivate us to finish the last bits in a timely fashion :D
> 
> Here's a [Pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/rbonallie/dating-other-disasters/) that Rebecca made and here's a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1170883658/playlist/23wfPlCKYVzPPYwfjoQwCo?si=ZNAoIg5eQaORYf_uK_BUMg) to go with the fic if you wanna get in the Mood!
> 
> There aren't any particular warnings so far that we can think of, but if anything comes up we'll mention it in the chapter notes. If you have any questions or concerns feel free to ask!

Andrew stared down at the notebook in front of him, hands itching to just rip out the page and burn it. He’d been working on the poem all afternoon, but it was like trying to fit puzzle pieces into the wrong holes. Pulling at his hair in frustration, he picked up his pen and started to meticulously black out everything except for a few jagged, broken fragments. The repetitive motion was soothing at least, and he could make up some bullshit in class tomorrow about how it was all on purpose.

“Andrew?”

Startled, he dropped his pen and twisted around in his chair. Neil was leaning against the door frame, freshly showered and half dressed, looking sheepish.

“Hey, sorry, I knocked but you didn’t hear. Can I borrow a shirt? I forgot to do my laundry.”

Andrew blinked and forced down the swell of interest at the concept of Neil wearing his clothes. Neil had a habit of picking up Andrew’s discarded hoodies around their shared dorm and putting them on in the evenings when he was cold but couldn’t be bothered to find his own. Andrew pretended to be annoyed about it, but the pathetic truth was that he’d started to leave them lying around on purpose. Still, this was different. This was Neil going on a date and basically asking to be dressed up by Andrew.

He beckoned Neil inside and went to rifle through his wardrobe, pulling out several shirts, two pairs of jeans that were a little too long for him anyway, and his favourite leather jacket. After some contemplation, he picked out an outfit and shoved it at Neil.

“I already have pants,” Neil protested, taking them anyway.

“Mhm,” Andrew hummed dismissively, eyeing the scuffed, faded jeans Neil was wearing. They’d already been old when Andrew had first met him. It was no wonder Neil’s dates kept going spectacularly down the drain if he kept wearing those.

“Shut up, they’re comfortable,” Neil grumbled, reading his mind. Just to torture Andrew, he stripped out of the offending garment right there and then, never shy about his legs--not that there was anything to be shy about there, goddamn.

“Christ, these things are tight,” he muttered as he pulled on the black skinny jeans Andrew had picked out, jumping up and down to ease himself in. The shirt, too, was like a second skin as he slipped it on, the silvery grey perfect for making his eyes and hair look even more striking than usual.

“That will do,” Andrew said, making his voice flat and uninterested. “Did you charge your phone?”

Neil fished it out of his discarded jeans and checked.

“Should be fine- ah. Shit.”

The screen had gone dark. With a sigh, Andrew grabbed his own phone from his desk and tossed it at him, taking Neil’s from him in exchange and plugging it in. The mere notion of anyone touching his phone usually made his skin crawl, but somehow he’d gotten over it with Neil. He did, however, make a point of regularly wiping his browser history and deleting old conversations.

“Call if you need a ride home.”

"I will," Neil promised. In the early days of their friendship, Neil would have protested such an offer, insisting he were fine. Slowly, though, as with the clothing advice, he'd learned to lean on Andrew. Andrew swallowed thickly as Neil slipped the phone into his back pocket and offered him a grateful smile. In some ways that had made it even harder.

"So," Andrew muttered, unable to quell his curiosity. "Who is it this time?"

Neil's grin faded slightly.

"Uh-" He began awkwardly.

"You can't remember?"

"You know how it is," Neil said with a shrug. "Nicky sets me up with someone different every week. He'd do it every _day_ if he could. How am I supposed to remember any of their names? Especially when they all turn out to be idiots, or assholes-"

"Or both," Andrew finished for him. They’d had the same conversation many times before.

"Exactly," Neil agreed with a sigh, before his eyes widened in realisation. " _Ash_. Their name is Ash."

“Well, have fun with _Ash_ ,” Andrew said, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He sat back down at his desk and flipped through his notebook, violently hating everything he’d written. Neil kept puttering about for a bit, clearly not in a rush to get to his date, then called out that he was leaving. Five minutes later, the door shut behind him, and Andrew was alone.

As always when Neil went on a date, Andrew didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He migrated from his room to the television, flicked through all the channels twice, then moved to the kitchen and started pulling out ingredients for dinner. Halfway through cutting the vegetables he wandered back to his room to check if Neil had texted. While he was at his desk, he gave the poem another try but only ended up writing a single word before tearing out the page and flopping on his bed.

There, he found an abandoned book and read another chapter. Then his stomach started to feel painfully empty and he went back to the kitchen to stare at his vegetables that suddenly didn’t look very appealing anymore.

In the end he tossed them in a box and put them in the fridge for Neil to snack on. He found a frozen pizza in the freezer and finally settled on a mildly interesting documentary about sharks while he waited for his food. His feet were cold and he buried them in the crack between the sofa cushions, wondering where Neil and Ash had gone and what they were talking about.

He checked Neil’s phone again, but there was only a text from Nicky featuring a lot of emoji-heavy innuendo and one from Matt asking if they could swap shifts. He ignored the former, and just as he was making a mental note to remind Neil of the latter, Neil’s phone vibrated in his hand.

Andrew opened the new message when he saw his name at the top. _Coming home_ , it read, and Andrew breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Three little dots danced on the screen, indicating Neil was writing more. _Before I die of boredom_ , Neil had written. Andrew huffed a laugh through his nose.

He settled back on the sofa with the cooked pizza. The documentary had finished and it would be entirely too pathetic to stare at the door until Neil came home so he switched to a dumb game show and began picking at a slice of pizza. Eventually, he heard the lock sliding out of place and turned to watch Neil enter the apartment, looking flustered.

“Bad date?” Andrew asked, twisting round on the sofa to face Neil and trying not to sound too smug about it.

“ _Boring_ date,” Neil said, kicking off his shoes.

Neil joined Andrew on the sofa, flopping into it with a sigh, and Andrew waited for more information.

“Did you know,” Neil started, “that Nicky introduces me to these people as his ‘stupidly hot actor friend’?”

“I did not,” Andrew replied darkly, tossing the pizza crust onto his plate and making a mental note to add _kill Nicky_ to the top of his to-do list.

“I think that means they, I don’t know, expect something,” Neil went on, exasperated. “This guy wouldn’t shut up about his favourite plays and about how he’d always wanted to get into directing before giving me this lecture about the history of theatre. I swear I might as well have gone on a date with Kevin.”

 _Don’t do that_ , Andrew thought to himself.

“Anyway, I think they get the impression that I’m some hot-shot actor,” Neil continued. “But really I’m just a student, and a bad one at that.”

Andrew dug his toes into Neil’s thigh to get him to shut up.

“So,” Andrew said. “Where does _Ash_ rank? Surely below the guy who turned out to be a stalker but above the girl whose main offence was sitting on the same side of the table as you.”

Neil wrinkled his nose, thinking about it.

“He wasn’t _all bad_ ,” Neil conceded eventually. “Just a bore. Around the same level as the guy who kept wanting me to feel his biceps. Nowhere near as bad as the guy with the gambling problem.”

“Speaking of gambling problems,” Andrew said. “You might want to inform your friends of how tonight went. There’s a small pool going on whether you might actually find someone who you would consider going on a second date with.”

“They’re _our_ friends,” Neil said, making a face. “Switch phones?”

Andrew handed Neil his now fully-charged phone and gestured for Neil to just put his own on the table. He wasn’t really interested in checking it just now.  

“Ah, Matt wants to swap shifts,” Neil said. “I have an early class tomorrow, but I guess I could work a night shift if I nap during the day. Are you working tomorrow?”

Andrew nodded. He and Neil worked in the twenty-four hour supermarket; Neil was a barista at the small café whereas Andrew mostly stacked shelves and answered stupid questions.

“Late as well?” Neil asked. Andrew nodded again.

“Gonna be a long day,” Neil sighed, leaning into the sofa cushions and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Andrew stilled, watching Neil’s fingers deftly move down the shirt, popping open buttons and exposing a strip of sun-tanned skin.  

“What?” Neil asked. “Don’t you want these back?”

Andrew pointedly slid his gaze to the ceiling.

“At least wash them first,” He grumbled. Neil would assume the request was more to do with Andrew liking to keep his clothes in a nice condition. Really, Andrew couldn’t handle the heartbreak of having his clothes smelling all like _Neil_ , soft and clean, like a bar of soap. Sometimes it was a comfort. Other times, a tragedy. Tonight was a tragic kind of night.

“Well, obviously,” Neil snorted. “I’ll throw them in with mine later.”

Andrew tried not to imagine his shirt and jeans tumbling merrily around the washing machine with Neil’s underwear, and picked up his phone after all just for something to do. Neil stripped off the shirt and threw it over the arm of the sofa, then wriggled out of the pants and stretched out his legs with a sigh.

Andrew stared studiously at his phone.

“Maybe I should just quit this dating thing altogether and become a spinster,” Neil sighed. “Or a crazy cat lady. How many cats do you think we could fit into our dorm?”

“Zero,” Andrew said.

“You’re no fun,” Neil pouted. His lips really were unfairly kissable.

“If you wanted a fun roommate, you should have asked Nicky,” Andrew sneered, tossing his pizza crust at Neil, who ducked and laughed before throwing it back.

“Aw, babe, I wouldn’t trade you for anyone.”

“Shut up,” Andrew snapped, feeling hot and cold at the stupid pet name. He stood up abruptly and took his plate into the kitchen, rattling the stack of dishes in the sink and opening and closing all the cupboards until he found the hot chocolate mix. Maybe he should hand in a poem tomorrow that was just the line ‘I hate you’ repeated over and over again.

Now there was a thought for the next poetry slam.

When he came back, Neil was still lounging around in his underwear, though he’d found one of Andrew’s hoodies and draped it over his shoulders like a cape. He was watching reruns of Takeshi’s Castle with his knees pulled to his chest, looking silly and cosy and relaxed, and Andrew tucked himself in the corner furthest from him so he wouldn’t be so tempted to scoot closer.

How were you supposed to tell someone that you wanted to kiss them until you both saw stars? Until you both became breathless? Especially when that person considered you a friend, and lived with you, and relied on you to dress them up all pretty for a parade of useless dates?

Andrew scowled and turned his gaze to the window. The panes were all dirty and steamed up, but Andrew could still see the moon, full and glowing, hanging low in the sky.

The goddamn _dates_. They had actually been Neil’s idea. In the early days of their living together, Nicky had pestered Neil regarding his sexuality until Neil had muttered something vague about not really being sure what he was. That made sense to Andrew. After all, he’d spent a year or two struggling to figure things out too. Neil never seemed to show much of a romantic interest in anyone. He was always wrapped up with rehearsals, memorising lines, seemingly too busy to bother. Or maybe not _wanting_ to bother in the first place.

Their friends were relentless, however. They were always telling Neil how gorgeous he was, and how they knew someone just _perfect_ for him, and how dating was basically the best thing in the universe. Andrew wondered if it was their incessant badgering that did it, or whether Neil came to the conclusion on his own, but suddenly, Neil was standing in front of them, announcing he was ready to date. And as Andrew’s heart very nearly imploded, Nicky was already organising the first of what would be many, _many_ unfortunate dates.

“What are you thinking about?” Neil asked, swivelling round slightly so he could face Andrew.

“Pizza,” Andrew replied immediately.

Neil raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips as if to say he didn’t quite believe him.

“Pass me a slice,” Andrew went on.

Neil rolled his eyes but obliged, leaning forward to grab a slice of the now-cold pizza and presenting it to Andrew as if it were a bouquet of flowers.

“Bon appétit mon chéri,” Neil said in an impeccable French accent that made the hairs on the back of Andrew’s neck stand on end.

As Andrew nibbled the pizza slice, Neil stood and stretched before yawning hard into his fist.

“I should get to bed,” Neil said over the drone of the television, “I have an early start.”

Andrew nodded. Neil, still draped in Andrew’s hoodie, wandered over to the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Andrew sat on the couch a while longer, still folded up in the far corner, chewing his cold slice of pizza and staring at the television without really watching it. Outside, a street lamp flickered, and the sound of music from a nearby club was drifting through the window, indistinct and fuzzy. Andrew thought about doing the dishes or taking another stab at actually getting a good poem on paper, but after flicking through the last few things he had written, he felt so uninspired that he just went to bed. He fell asleep to the tinny sound of distant dance music, his legs all tangled in the duvet, and his mind full of foolish, wonderful thoughts about his roommate’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos will be cherished and celebrated! :)
> 
> Visit us on Tumblr, we're super cool rad people who totally have their lives in order: [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com/) and [annawrites (moonix)](https://annawrites.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello pals! ty so much for all your lovely comments on the last chapter. glad you all like pining bc there's uhhhhhhh,, gonna be a lot of it. :,)

Like every morning, it was Kevin who woke them up by incessantly banging on their door and shouting rude things at the top of his voice until Andrew stumbled outside and let him in. Neil could sleep through any amount of noise, especially noise produced by Kevin Day, but Andrew did not possess that talent and their dorm neighbours had recently threatened bodily harm to Kevin if he didn’t shut up.

“About fucking time,” Kevin snapped, waltzing into the kitchen and getting a pot of coffee started. “Classes start in half an hour. Are either of you even showered yet?”

Andrew leaned against the counter with a yawn and Kevin started to pull things out of the fridge to make breakfast. He cracked an obscene amount of eggs into a bowl and whisked them into an angry blur before pouring them in a pan. While the eggs cooked, he toasted several slices of wholegrain bread, chopped up some melon leftover from yesterday’s smoothie bowls and whipped the dirty dishes into shape in what felt like mere minutes.

“Go wake him up,” Kevin commanded, meticulously updating the grocery list on the fridge that neither Andrew nor Neil ever used. They either did impromptu shopping trips at the end of their shifts at the store, or else Kevin had a fit about their eating habits and insisted on stocking their fridge with healthy things for them. The magnetic note pad had been a Christmas present from Kevin, who liked to gift them “useful” things, like post-it notes in various colours, ten packs of highlighters, homework planners, and, on one memorable occasion, a stapler.

Andrew yawned again, snagged a cup of coffee and dumped enough sugar in to fuel him for the short walk to Neil’s bedroom and the delicate task ahead of him. Neil was a weird sleeper - he either napped fitfully and shot awake at the slightest hint of movement or sound around him, or he was dead to the world for up to twelve hours at a time.

Kevin stopped him to hand him a second cup of coffee for Neil. Andrew padded to his room and took a moment to figure out how to knock with both hands occupied. In the end, he used first his elbow, then his foot; but he might as well have been whispering at a dead man for all the response he got.

It was no use. He had to go in.

The trouble about Neil in the mornings was that he looked too damn cosy in his bed. He slept curled around a large pillow, hair ruffled and clothes askew, long legs sprawling indecently across the bed. Some time in the night he’d kicked off his blankets, as he tended to do, and there was a lot more bare skin on display than Andrew was equipped to deal with this early in the morning when he was only half awake himself.

“Neil,” he croaked, setting one of the mugs on the upturned crate beside Neil’s mattress that served as a bedside table. “Wakey wakey.”

No reaction. Neil’s chest rose and fell rhythmically and his eyes remained closed. A ribbon of sunlight snaked through the lopsided curtains on his window and teased at the auburn curls of his hair, highlighting them in copper, red and gold. He was breathtaking, and Andrew hated every inch of him, especially the strip of skin exposed between his shirt and his waistband that just begged to be traced and caressed and _licked_.

God damn.

“Hey, asshole,” Andrew said loudly, lifting his foot to prod Neil’s shoulder with his toes. “Get the fuck up. Your babysitter is here.”

Neil jolted upright at the touch and took a second to adjust to the morning light. Andrew waited as Neil ran a hand through his tangle of curls, messy from sleep, and reached for his phone to check the time.

Neil cursed under his breath and hurried to his feet as Andrew took a sip of coffee. He wasn’t sure why he was waiting around. As Neil grabbed rumpled clothes from the floor and headed for the shower, he made his way back to the kitchen.

Andrew twirled slowly on his stool as Kevin plated up breakfast. Kevin kept asking him boring questions about class and poetry but Andrew could only supply him with a few cursory yes and no replies so early in the morning.

“Smells good,” Neil said as he entered the room, towelling off his hair. Kevin slid a plate across the counter and Neil grabbed it before settling into the stool next to Andrew.

Andrew flicked Neil an annoyed glance. He smelled all fresh and clean, and his skin was still damp, flushed pink from the heat of the shower. He was wearing black leggings, a white t-shirt that was too short on him, and a red, plaid cardigan. Even though the clothes were creased and had been lying on Neil’s bedroom floor until about five minutes ago, he looked _good_.

Andrew tried to focus on his scrambled eggs instead but it was no use. His feelings for Neil were like a fucking boomerang. Every time he tried to toss them away, they were flung violently back in his face.

He pushed his half-finished breakfast to the side and got up.

“I should get to class,” Andrew said, interrupting Kevin and Neil’s traditional morning argument over which playwright was being woefully ignored this trimester.

“Sure,” Neil replied. “I’ll see you at work later?”

Andrew merely grunted and went to get ready for class.

The day dragged on as usual. He mostly slept through his first lecture, paid only minimal attention in his seminars, and put in a token effort in the one class he was marginally interested in today. He spent his lunch break picking at a sandwich and writing a long poem about how stupid and useless feelings were, then shoved his notebook to the bottom of his bag and suffered through his last class of the day before he was finally free to go and suffer through his shift at the store.

Outside the sky turned from lilac to blue. Andrew had one earbud in, listening to music as he re-stocked shelves. They weren’t supposed to do that while they worked, but he already had to endure the indignity of a brightly coloured uniform that did the opposite of flattering his frame, and it was usually quiet after the last evening rush of customers.

Neil tumbled in a few hours later, fresh from rehearsal. Andrew saluted him on his way past the café and Neil shot him a tired smile. Somehow, having Neil nearby always made even the most boring days more bearable, even if they didn’t get to talk much, each going about their tasks. When it was time for Andrew to take a break, he collapsed in one of the chairs by the counter and pressed his hands over his aching eyes. The bright fluorescent lights of the store gave him headaches.

“Alright?” Neil asked, placing a steaming cup of coffee and a sticky pastry on the table by his elbow. He looked pale and sickly in the glow of the lamps, but the urge to pull him down into a kiss was still there all the same.

“If I have to listen to Jeremy sing Pocket Full Of Sunshine one more time, I am going to commit a murder,” Andrew said blandly.

“I don’t doubt it,” Neil hummed, perching on the chair next to him.

The café had all but emptied. A few truckers were sitting drinking coffee; the murmur of their voices and the thin music coming from the supermarket speakers were the only prominent sounds. If it weren’t for the apocalyptic, Mountain Dew glow of the lights, it would almost be peaceful.

“I should get back to work,” Andrew muttered. His coffee was only half-finished but he’d already taken five minutes more than he should have.  

“What time do you get off?” Neil asked, standing to let Andrew slide past him.

“One,” Andrew replied, and then, because he couldn’t help it, he added, “Nicky arrange any late-night hook-ups for you?”

“Not tonight,” Neil answered with a small smile. “I’m all yours.”

Much to his annoyance, Andrew felt his heart swoop in his chest.

“The bike is parked round the back,” Andrew said, before heading back to the canned food aisle.

He spent the rest of his shift mechanically filling shelves, arranging the newer cans in neat lines and pulling the older cans to the front. Sometime around midnight, Jeremy crashed. The singing stopped and the loud yawning began. Andrew was glad Neil had the good sense to sneak him coffee on his breaks, otherwise he’d be joining in.

The supermarket was open twenty-four hours a day, but it was pretty much deserted in the early hours of the morning. The last hour of Andrew’s shift passed very slowly, until finally it ended, and he went to the staff room to get out of his hideous uniform and change into his motorcycle gear. He tugged on the snug black leather pants and ditched the supermarket polo shirt for a plain black tee before putting on his leather jacket. He tossed the beat-up sneakers he wore to work in his locker and laced up his chunky biker boots before finally pulling on his black gloves with his teeth.

Neil was waiting for him by the bike. It was an old Triumph model, black with flashes of crimson. Andrew handed Neil the spare helmet he kept in his locker by way of hello.

“We need to get you some riding leather,” Andrew said, kicking on leg over the bike to straddle it. “If you’re going to be hitching rides all year.”

Neil shrugged and climbed on.

“Tired?” Andrew asked.

“Tired,” Neil agreed.

“Hungry?”

“ _Hungry_.”

“Waffles it is.”

They each clipped on their helmets and Neil slipped his hands around Andrew’s waist. His hands skimmed the leather around Andrew’s middle and his breath was sudden and feather-light against Andrew’s neck. Neil had been riding with Andrew for ages now, but the proximity that came with riding together was something Andrew was still trying to get used to. While it wasn’t unwelcome, the feelings it provoked were complicated. It was desire and constraint and old trauma, all mixed up in a tangled mess.

Andrew’s gloved hands clenched around the hand grips of the bike.

“Ready?” Andrew asked, getting ready to pull away.

“Ready.”

The roads were quiet; the ruby shine of taillights and the glow of the moon the only sources of light in the dark. The sky above them was a far-off river of stars. All Andrew could hear was the bracing roar of the engine, a welcome wake-up call after such a long, boring shift. All he could feel was the late-night breeze against his face, the steadying weight of Neil’s arms wrapped around him, and a tight growing hunger in his stomach.

They stopped at their favourite late-night waffle house. It was a convenient stop on the way home, and entirely more preferable to the remnants of Kevin’s breakfast waiting for them at the apartment. They made their way over to their usual booth and settled in.

Neil pulled out his phone and started checking his messages while Andrew scanned the menu. As Andrew was deciding on toppings (whipped cream, powdered sugar, candied strawberries), Neil groaned.

“Nicky’s arranged another date for tomorrow evening,” Neil said, a sour look on his face.

Andrew hummed in response.

“I’m supposed to come up with the plan this time,” Neil went on, as if this were the biggest inconvenience in the world.

“Can’t be that hard,” Andrew replied with a half-shrug.

“Maybe I’ll bring them here,” Neil mumbled.

 _Not here_ , Andrew thought to himself. _It’s ours_.

“Probably too casual for a date,” he made himself say instead.

“Yeah?” Neil sighed. “I wouldn’t mind if someone took me here. It has a certain… trashy charm. And the waffles are good.”

He grinned and bumped his foot against Andrew’s under the table when Andrew didn’t react.

“Come on, help me out here. Where would you take someone called-” He squinted at his phone. “Roxanne, on a date?”

“I wouldn’t,” Andrew said deadpan. “I don’t date.”

They were interrupted by the waitress and placed their orders. When she was gone, Neil slumped in his seat and drummed his fingers against the table.

“But assuming Roxanne was someone you wanted to date…”

“Unlikely,” Andrew scoffed. Neil rolled his eyes.

“Alright, assuming Roxanne was a _guy_ you wouldn’t mind going on one date with. Where’d you go?”

“Eden’s,” Andrew said immediately. “I’d blow him in the back room, get a drink and leave. Problem solved.”

“That’s not a date,” Neil protested. One of his feet was still pressed up to Andrew’s. He could feel it even through the thick boots, but neither of them pulled back. “And I don’t want to sleep with them, I just… want to get to know them a bit.”

Andrew looked out of the window at the almost empty parking lot. It was still warm, but a strong wind was snapping at the trees like a rabid pack of hounds. Riding home in this weather would require all his attention later. Time to stamp out the embers of their smouldering conversation and burn through a less dangerous topic.

“How many nervous breakdowns did Kevin have in rehearsals today, then?”

Kevin was always a safe option. In the beginning Andrew had suspected that Neil might be involved with him, but Neil had laughed hysterically when he’d asked, and Kevin had sputtered something about Neil being like his younger brother and looked vaguely nauseous. Rehearsals was another good topic to get Neil going and make him forget all about dating and romance, and it carried them all through their meal and back to Andrew’s bike.

“Oh, I know,” Neil said as he was fastening his helmet. “I’ll ask Dan if she can sneak us into her show tomorrow night. She usually has extra tickets.”

“Good idea,” Andrew deadpanned. “I am sure you will learn a great many things about this Roxanne while sitting in a darkened theatre watching one of your friends dance and not talking.”

“Ugh,” Neil groaned, sliding onto the bike behind him. “Dating is hard. Remind me again why I’m doing this?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“Right,” Neil grumbled, leaning his forehead against Andrew’s back. “Thanks.”

*

Daylight began to dribble in through the crack in between the curtains, waking Andrew up. It was a Saturday; he had neither class nor work today, so decided to doze on into the late morning. When he finally kicked away the blankets and sat up, he felt groggy from oversleeping. A thick blade of sun cut a path across the carpet. Dust swirled around in the light, catching it and glinting like tiny shards of glass.

Andrew stretched and slowly made his way from his bedroom to the kitchen, carrying a precarious stack of plates and mugs that had collected in his room over the week. He dumped them in the empty sink and began to run the faucet. As the sink filled, he made coffee. The sound of running water and the whirr of the coffee machine filled the apartment, disrupting the silence. He went to open a window to alleviate some of the stuffiness that had gathered overnight.

It was a nice day, and Andrew thought about going down to the shared garden to drink his coffee, smoke a cigarette, and start working on his assignment. This week they had to write two prose pieces: one comprised solely of dialogue and the other containing description only. It was due in a few days and he had a grand total of zero ideas.

Andrew flicked on the radio so that he could listen to the news as he washed the dishes. As he dipped the plates in warm, soapy water, there was a knock at the door. He rinsed the dishes, dried his hands, and went to answer it.

Aaron strode in and dumped his bag on the floor. His hands were covered in paint splatters. As he hopped onto one of the stools, he started picking at the coloured patches until they started flaking away, coating the countertop with scraps of crimson and silver and mauve.

“Can you get me a ticket for this dance show tonight?” Aaron asked, looking like it pained him to do so.

“Why can’t you get your own damn ticket?” Andrew shot back in response.

“Apparently there aren’t that many left, but you’re kind of friends with Wilds and Boyd and that lot. I was hoping you could get me in.”

“Not that I care, but why do you want to go to a college dance show?” Andrew asked, though he had an inkling what that reason might be.

“Well,” Aaron started, “Katelyn is going to be in it, so, um-”

“So you’ll go play cheerleader and impress her. _Very_ romantic.”

“Don’t be an ass about it. I just thought it’d be nice to surprise her.”

“Well, I wish I could help you, but they’re not really my friends, and I’m very busy, so best skedaddle and find them somewhere else.”

Aaron frowned, a small crease crinkling just between his eyebrows.

“Come _on_ , Andrew,” Aaron went on, huffing out a laboured sigh. “You could come with me if you want. All your friends will be there.”

Andrew regarded Aaron coolly.

“Josten’s friends, then,” Aaron said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Why won’t you come?”

“I can’t go,” Andrew said through gritted teeth. “Neil is going there on a date. He’ll think we’re all spying. He’s already annoyed by the outrageous amount of betting that goes on at his expense.”

“Right,” Aaron snorted quietly. “So you’re just looking out for him, is that it?”

“He’s my roommate,” Andrew shrugged. “Last time I pissed him off, he dumped my ice cream in the sink and dyed all of my towels pink in the wash.”

Aaron threw him a look that could be described as pitiful, if Aaron were capable of feeling pity for anyone.

“Seriously, when are you going to fuck him and get it out of your system? You two are like an old married couple, it’s creepy.”

“He doesn’t fuck, and I don’t believe in marriage,” Andrew snapped, setting a mug of coffee down on the counter hard enough that some of it sloshed over the side. The mug was from Neil’s collection of fantastically ugly crockery, which seemed to delight him to no end. It had a picture of grumpy cat on it with the words “I woke up like this” printed above it.

“Yeah? A heteronormative conspiracy, is it?” Aaron scoffed, mopping up the overspill with a tea towel. “You know what, I’m not having this conversation with you again. Just tell me what you want in exchange for the ticket and I’ll get out of your hair.”

They both paused as they heard the key turn in the lock, tense silence settling around them like an old, worn blanket that they still hadn’t managed to get rid of. Their relationship was - not as fraught as it used to be, nowadays, but it was too easy to fall back into old habits sometimes.

“Oh, Aaron, hey,” Neil called in on his way past the open door. He was wearing running gear and looked flushed and sweaty and far too awake for a Saturday morning.

Far too awake for a Saturday, period.

“Can you get Andrew to do me a favour?” Aaron immediately asked, because he was a traitor and too damn aware of Andrew’s weaknesses.

“No, he cannot,” Andrew said before Neil could respond. Then he turned back to Aaron. “I want a day off. You’ll go to class for me on Tuesday and give my presentation for me.”

Aaron groaned.

“Again? And presentation on what? Jesus, what if they ask questions?”

Andrew waved him off. “Just bullshit it. I’ll give you my notes, you’ve done it before.”

“Ugh,” Aaron sighed, draining his coffee. “I’ll have to wear a hat again, your hair’s longer than mine. It’s too hot for this shit.”

“Do it for Katelyn,” Andrew deadpanned and poured himself a coffee in the Tea Rex mug. Neil, who had been watching the exchange with vague curiosity from the doorway, chuckled and held out his hand for it.

“What’s the deal this time?” he asked as Andrew passed his mug to him.

“He gets me a ticket for Katelyn’s show tonight,” Aaron muttered darkly. “I was going to ask him for the bike, too, but I don’t even want to know what the price is gonna be for that.”

“You know he doesn’t let anyone ride his bike,” Neil said, a fresh smile drying on his lips.

“Except you,” Aaron said pointedly.

“Just as a passenger,” Neil shrugged. He took a sip of his coffee before handing the mug back to Andrew. “I’m off to take a shower. Aaron, if I see you at the show tonight I’ll pretend not to know you, just a heads-up. I gotta make a good impression with my date, I can’t afford to be associated with you.”

“Piss off, asshole,” Aaron smirked. Neil grinned, held up both middle fingers in response and walked off. Andrew would never understand the weird love-hate friendship that Neil and his brother had developed over the last year.

As the sound of the running shower filtered into the room, Aaron got up and grabbed his bag. It was as paint-ridden as his hands were, with old, thin brushes poking out of the pockets. He slung it over his shoulder and shot Andrew one last meaningful look.

“You sure you don't want to come with me?” He asked wearily. “You can keep an eye on-”

“Nope,” Andrew interrupted him, not bothering to look up from his phone. “I’ll forward you the ticket in an hour or so. Wilds is sorting it out as we speak.”

“Right,” Aaron said, “I won’t say thanks as I’m being mildly fucked over in return to be honest.”

“Pleasure doing business with you too,” Andrew muttered.

Aaron rolled his eyes and left.

Andrew downed the rest of his coffee and booted up his old, piece-of-shit laptop. He flexed his fingers above the keyboard, wondering where to start.

“You working on school stuff today?” Neil asked, already fully-dressed, his hair dripping onto his clean t-shirt.

“Trying to,” Andrew mumbled.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll get out of your way,” Neil replied. “But can I ask you something first?”

Andrew’s eyes flicked from the blank document to Neil’s face. He’d wanted to concentrate, to ignore everything, but sometimes indulging Neil just came naturally, a habit he couldn’t break.

“What?”

“Do you think we could hang out today? After the date?” Neil looked to the side awkwardly. “It’s just, you’re the only person who understands what I’m doing, and, well, you give the best advice and you judge situations objectively. If I hang out with that lot after, they’ll just make my head spin.”

“I have these assignments to work on,” Andrew managed to reply.

“I’ll treat you to waffles?” Neil offered. “You can even work as I talk?”

“Fine,” Andrew said curtly, already knowing he wouldn’t work while Neil talked. He tapped a few random words into his document just for something to focus on that wasn’t Neil’s eyes or his hands or his hair or his anything.

“Score,” Neil said, the boozy hint of a suppressed laugh on his voice. “Thanks, Andrew. I really appreciate it.”

“Appreciate it somewhere else,” Andrew grumbled, waggling his fingers at him dismissively. The laugh Neil had tried to subdue now frothed to the surface after all. The sound kept fizzing in Andrew’s mind even as Neil walked off and shut his door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are on tumblr @ [annawrites (moonix)](http://annawrites.tumblr.com) and [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com) if u wanna say hello or w/e *fingerguns outta here*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To combat the Monday blues, have another chapter filled with pining and, well, pining. Also, the rare creature that is drunk Andrew makes an appearance! We hope you enjoy?

Andrew made his way to the waffle house alone this time. Nicky had agreed to drop Neil off after the show, and after a day spent writing with barely any break, Andrew needed a moment to himself to clear the cobwebs from his mind and come back to reality.

He ordered a hot chocolate with a shot of espresso and sat in their usual booth, looking out at the darkening parking lot. Hues of purple drenched the edges of his vision, disappearing like fairies every time he turned his head. Writing had always been his escape, and some days it was harder to pull himself back into the physical realm and pick up his own miserable plot again. His stomach growled--had been doing so on and off for most of the afternoon since all he’d had for lunch was a quick sandwich--but he didn’t want to order yet without Neil there to mock him for his unhealthy topping choices.

Nicky’s car pulled into the parking lot a little later than Andrew had estimated. He watched through the window as Neil got out and waved goodbye to Nicky before crossing the parking lot, looking lost in thought.

“Hey,” Neil said once he was inside. He dropped onto the cracked red leather of the bench and made a noise like a malfunctioning ceiling fan.

“And here I was, thinking you had finally met the love of your life and eloped to Las Vegas to get hitched,” Andrew commented sarcastically.

“I’d never,” Neil muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long.”

“Nicky insisted on introducing me to about ten new people he met last week. And then I had to diplomatically let Roxanne know that I wasn’t going to come back to her place.”

“Diplomatically,” Andrew snorted. “Since when is that word in your vocabulary?”

“I made a token effort,” Neil said dryly, pushing himself up so he could study the menu. He dropped it back on the table a second later and huffed, “Seriously, why do some people look at you like you’ve grown a second head when you tell them you don’t want to have sex on the first date? It’s not that weird.”

“Do you know what you want to order?” Andrew asked, keenly aware of his chattering stomach. 

“Watermelon… slices… ?” Neil replied unsurely. “Do you think they’ll have that?”

“Why don’t you ask?” Andrew caught the eye of their waiter, who had been hovering for the past twenty minutes, shooting Andrew the occasional piteous look.

“So, you didn’t get stood up in the end?” The waiter joked as he approached their table, flipping open his pad and readying his pen.

“He’s the only one I  _ wouldn’t _ stand up,” Neil grumbled, still looking at the table with sleepy, unfocused eyes. 

“Adorable,” The waiter commented, looking between them as if they were two newborn puppies. 

“I’ll have waffles with vanilla ice cream, brownie pieces and peanut butter cups,” Andrew told the waiter, wishing he would stop looking at them like they’d just won a medal for being the cutest couple in the diner. “And he’ll have… watermelon slices? Do you do that?”

“Of course we can do that,” The waiter replied cheerfully, jotting everything down. “You boys enjoy your date, now.”

“No more dates,” Neil groaned as the waiter left. 

“I think I’ve heard you say that before,” Andrew replied.

“It just gets  _ tiring _ ,” Neil said, heaving out a sigh. “I can’t believe people do this for fun. You have to pretend to be nice, pretend to be  _ interesting _ . I wish I could go on dates with someone who already knew me. Like, imagine meeting up with someone who already knew your story, your quirks, your likes and dislikes. It would be so much easier. Why can’t it be like that?”

Andrew pressed his lips together, uncertain how to answer. 

“Anyway,” Neil said, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. “How was your day? Did you get much writing done?”

Andrew thought back to the two incomplete stories waiting for him at the apartment. He’d gotten the words down but still had to edit them. He would probably spend most of Sunday trying to alchemise them into something golden, something worth reading. 

“Some,” he answered eventually. “Whose idea was it to go to art school, anyway?”

“I ask myself that on a daily basis,” Neil sighed. “Especially when Kevin’s in one of his moods.”

Andrew still didn’t really feel like making conversation, so he looked out of the window again while stirring his straw through the dregs of his empty drink. Neil was one of the few people who were actually okay with Andrew’s silences, and while he usually had no problem filling them with his own chatter or rants, sometimes he just joined Andrew in being quiet. Tonight he rested his chin in his hand and closed his eyes, content simply to wait for their food. One of his feet had come to rest next to Andrew’s under the table and Andrew couldn’t feel much through the double barrier of their shoes, but merely the knowledge that Neil’s foot was right there made him all the more aware of the sensation.

It had been a while since the last time he’d gone to Eden’s. Perhaps he should pay Roland another visit some time soon.

Their food arrived and they made it through their waffles in comfortable, mutual silence. Neil ate all of his watermelon first and stole one bite of Andrew’s chocolate and peanut butter creation, like he always did, and pulled the inevitable “your sugar-to-waffle ratio is appalling but I’m too dumb to remember that” face that Andrew had almost come to look forward to over time.

“Seriously, your tongue must be fucking numb,” Neil muttered, gulping down juice to wash the taste from his mouth. Andrew poked the tongue in question out at him in lieu of a verbal answer and just about resisted to point out that Roland had yet to complain about that.

“Oh, by the way,” Neil said and pushed his empty plate away from himself. “Nicky was pestering me earlier about whether or not you’re fulfilling some arbitrary monthly quota of socialising at the moment. He’s probably going to start nagging you in person soon if you don’t reply to his texts.”

Eden’s it was, then. Nicky usually left him alone if they went out every once in a while, even if all Andrew did was guard their table, exchange a few words with Roland at the bar and disappear in the staff room for a little while.

He’d just have to keep Nicky from inviting Neil along. The last few times Neil had politely declined, but sooner or later he was going to feel too awkward to say no, and Andrew didn’t want Neil to come along out of some misplaced sense of social obligation. Not to mention that he  _ really  _ didn’t want Neil to come along when he was going to hook up with Roland.

For the first time ever, Andrew had clear boundaries in his life. As much as he appreciated having Neil in so many of the different compartments, some things just weren’t meant to mix, like mashed potatoes and ketchup, mint and chocolate, and Neil and Eden’s.

“Should we head home soon?” Neil asked, shooting Andrew a sleepy grin. The plate in front of him was shiny with pink watermelon water, littered with the forest green ends, Neil’s teeth marks denting the edges.

Andrew withdrew his foot and stood up, ignoring the swell of warmth that pooled in his stomach when Neil referred to their apartment as  _ home _ , to the two of them as a  _ we _ . He went to pay and the waiter slid another starry-eyed glance their way as they left. Andrew gritted his teeth, suddenly looking forward to a night at Eden’s. It was a tonic to everything: the music was too loud for thinking, the booze too strong for feeling, and crushing his lips against Roland’s satisfied all the occasional itches that rose within him. Going there was like wiping a slate clean, cracking a knuckle.

He and Neil climbed onto the motorcycle and pulled on their helmets, the routine pretty much a habit by now. Neil tucked his feet up before slipping his arms around Andrew’s midriff. Andrew huffed out a flustered breath that he hoped Neil would mistake for tiredness and sped out of the parking lot.

*

Monday dribbled away bit by bit. Andrew had class, and then a solo late shift at the supermarket without Neil to distract him from the brain-numbing tedium that was re-stocking the soda aisle. After that, he had a free day, as Aaron was filling in for him at school. He’d planned to write all day, but ended up sleeping until the early afternoon and never really being able to shake away the grogginess of it, choosing instead to curl up on the couch and watch reruns of stupid cartoons. On Wednesday, as expected, Nicky rang.

“Hello?” Nicky called down the phone. “Andrew?”

“Speaking,” Andrew replied dryly.

“I haven’t seen you around school this week,” Nicky said. “Aaron said you blackmailed him into talking about narrative structure in front of about thirty people?”

“He needs to reevaluate his definition of blackmail,” Andrew replied.

“Well, anyway, it would be nice to see you. Do you want to go dancing this weekend?”

“ _ You _ can dance if you want. I’ll be doing something much more interesting.”

“Ooh, dirty,” Nicky teased. “Then it’s a plan?”

“I guess it is,” Andrew agreed, suddenly eager for Friday to roll around. 

Neil’s bundle of keyrings twittered metallically as the door unlocked and swung open. Andrew hurriedly said bye and hung up.

“I swear, I never want to see a cup of coffee again for as long as I live,” Neil grumbled, joining Andrew on the couch and deflating like a sad balloon. Andrew gave him a once-over, noticing the patch of red--rosy as candy--spilling across Neil’s hand.

“What did you do?” Andrew asked, jerking his head towards it.

“Burnt it,” Neil muttered. “Like a dumbass.”

“Did you put it under cool water?” Andrew asked, eyeing the angry, red splotch.

“Obviously,” Neil replied, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, for like five seconds I bet,” Andrew fired back, getting to his feet and gesturing for Neil to do the same. “It looks... bad.”

“It doesn’t even sting, I swear,” Neil protested as Andrew started running the faucet. Andrew just slung him a look as if to say he didn’t buy it, and gently took Neil’s wrist, guiding his hand under cool, running water. 

Neil hissed out a relieved sigh when the water hit his skin and Andrew had to stop himself from saying  _ I told you so _ . They stood like that for a few minutes, Neil still in his jacket and apron, the sunshine trickling through the kitchen window playing tricks with his auburn hair, and Andrew wasn’t sure whether he should keep holding onto Neil’s wrist but did so anyway.

“Did Nicky call you?” Neil asked all of a sudden.

“Yeah,” Andrew replied. “You don’t have to worry about us growing estranged or anything. We’re going to Eden’s on Friday night.”

“I know,” Neil replied. “He invited me too.”

Andrew felt his head start spinning. “You can’t come,” He said reflexively.

“Why not?” Neil asked, his smile wilting on his face.

“You never come,” Andrew pointed out stupidly. “It’s not really your scene.”

Neil blinked slowly at him, tilting his head.

“Do you not want me to?”

The confirmation beaded on Andrew’s tongue like condensation, but when he opened his mouth to tell Neil that, the words simply evaporated again.

“Do you want to?” he turned the question around on Neil, finally taking his hand off Neil’s wrist and rooting around in a cupboard for the first aid kit they kept there. He found some burn cream that wasn’t expired yet and grabbed a clean towel out of a drawer.

“I sort of already said yes,” Neil muttered. “But I can stay home if you don’t want me there.”

“Whatever,” Andrew found himself saying. Neil turned off the water and Andrew patted his hand dry with the towel, then gently spread the salve over the burn even though Neil could have done it himself.

“Andrew,” Neil said. He waited until Andrew glanced up before continuing, “Whatever isn’t yes. Do you want me to come or not?”

For a moment, Andrew was frozen in place. “Whatever” had been his safe phrase for as long as he could think. He could say “Whatever” when he honestly didn’t care, which was often. He could say “Whatever” when he meant “No” but couldn’t be bothered to negotiate it, because each and every one of his “No”s had to be fought tooth and nail for and sometimes Andrew just didn’t have the energy. He could say “Whatever” on those rare occasions when he actually meant “Yes” but felt too vulnerable admitting it, because “Yes” meant wanting something, meant no take-backs.

Usually people just accepted his “Whatever” with no more fuss than an eye-roll or a sigh. Of course Neil was the one who had to pick up on the nuances of it and call him out on it. Of fucking course.

Andrew wiped his fingers and put the first aid kit away. Then he made sure to meet Neil’s waiting gaze as he painstakingly said, “Whatever,” again, and left the room.

*

Nicky’s car glided into the apartment parking lot and let out a sharp honk. Andrew closed his blinds and grabbed his shoes, making his way into the lounge. Neil was slumped on the sofa, avoiding his gaze and flicking through the television channels without really stopping. Since the incident in the kitchen the other day, they hadn’t really been speaking much. It was exhausting and had a bigger impact on Andrew’s mood than he cared to admit.

Andrew sat down beside Neil and started tying his laces. As much as it would be easier for him if Neil stayed at home, he knew that leaving now, without him, and with the tension thick in the air, would haunt him all night. He hadn’t really been able to explain to Neil why he hadn’t wanted him to come, and the question would become a heavy weight between them if left unaddressed. It would be far better to diffuse the situation now, blame the earlier dramatics on a bad mood. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Neil could hang out with Nicky all night and Andrew could do his own thing. If he was lucky, they would barely see each other. 

“So, are you coming or what?” Andrew asked Neil. 

“I- I didn’t think you wanted me to,” Neil replied, looking surprised.

“I’ll get you something to wear,” Andrew told him, resigned. 

Neil smiled appreciatively and it was difficult not to feel warmed by it. Andrew went to his bedroom and pulled out some ridiculously trendy spray-on jeans with a red stripe racing down the outer leg. He hadn’t been able to pull them off, and the fit was all wrong, but on Neil, they’d look unbearable. He tossed them at Neil and dug out a gauzy, white shirt to go with them. 

“Nicky’s downstairs,” Andrew said, purposely preoccupying himself with his phone as Neil changed. 

“I’m all set,” Neil told him. “Unless I- Do I need to bring anything? Like- I don’t know-”

“It’s a club,” Andrew interrupted him, blankly. “You don’t need to turn up with flowers and a fruit basket.”

Neil rolled his eyes and laughed, and just like that, the cold atmosphere that had been lingering in the apartment immediately thawed. 

They made their way down to the car. Nicky was fiddling with the radio and Kevin was sitting up front, his arms folded. In the backseat, Aaron was dozing. 

“Neil!” Nicky exclaimed. “You  _ did _ make it. Perfect.”

“Yeah,” Neil agreed, slipping into the back, middle seat.

“Amazing,” Nicky went on, starting the car. “Now I don’t have to tell Russell he’s been stood up.”

“Don’t have to-?” Neil replied, not following.

“Oh, just a little blind date I set up for you,” Nicky went on playfully. “You’re welcome.”

Andrew felt his stomach bottom out slightly. It was terrible enough that he had to sit through endless recollections of Neil’s awful dates. He’d always endeavored not to experience one in person and resisted the urge to kick Nicky’s seat for putting him in such a position. 

“Oh, right,” Neil said, running a hand through his hair. “I wish you’d told me.”

“I feel like these dates keep failing because I fill your head with all these expectations,” Nicky said. “I think a blind date will be perfect. Zero expectations, zero disappointments. I have a good feeling about this one, Neil.”

Andrew unwrapped a sour hard candy that he’d found in his jacket pocket and shoved it in his mouth. Kevin turned round to look at him. 

“Do you spend ninety per cent of your disposable income on candy?” He asked disapprovingly. 

“Do you spend ninety per cent of your spare time getting up my ass?” Andrew shot back. 

“Kevin can get up  _ my  _ ass any time,” Nicky laughed. “Come on, you guys, I feel like I’m sharing a car with the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Can you be a bit more cheerful about the fact that we’re going to get drunk, potentially high, and hopefully laid?”

“I’m not going to drink,” Neil said, sounding peeved. “And I told you no drugs.”

“Aw, Neil, I know, it’s fine,” Nicky crooned. “But you’re definitely in the running for the third option if you and Russell hit it off.”

“I don’t want to get laid either,” Neil muttered, too quietly for Nicky to hear above the noise of the car and the radio. Andrew bristled and tried to stamp down the protective urge that was rearing its head in him. It wouldn’t do to stab Neil’s date just because Nicky was being an insensitive asshole, as usual.

Nicky turned the volume up and hummed along to some mindless electro-pop song while Aaron dozed on and Kevin settled in with earphones, leaving Andrew and Neil to gloomily stew in their own thoughts. It was getting late, the sky simmering in the last syrupy ice-cream hues of sunset before the night dipped it in indigo and black. Andrew felt vaguely nauseous and indulged in a stupid fantasy where he told Nicky to stop the car and he and Neil got out in the middle of nowhere, found a nice spot in one of the surrounding fields and spent the night stargazing and not-talking before hitching a ride back to campus at sunrise. He let his head sink against the car window and closed his eyes, imagining the way Neil’s eyes would trace the star constellations Andrew pointed out, how close they’d lie, how their hands might get entangled and Andrew would lean in and-

“We’re here!” Nicky sang, turning off the music. “First stop of the night, Sweetie’s! Wakey wakey!”

Andrew huffed a breath and swallowed around the dryness in his mouth. He felt almost feverish from the heat in the car and being curled up into his seat in the same cramped position for so long. They climbed outside, shaking the sleep from their limbs and stretching, and Kevin even jogged a few rounds up and down the parking lot before joining them inside the diner where Nicky had snagged them their usual table.

“Just a smoothie,” Neil said when they all ordered, “the one with mango and mint. I’m not really hungry.”

Andrew snorted and added a side of sweet potato fries to his regular order, because Neil’s stomach would probably pipe up the minute everyone else’s food arrived and Eden’s only really had small snacks to offer in terms of non-alcoholic sustenance.

As they waited for the food to arrive, Kevin and Neil began bickering about the play that was coming up at the end of the month.

“But,  _ Twelfth Night _ as a tragedy?” Neil was saying, his tone more argumentative than usual, “I just don’t think that interpretation works. I mean, what’s the point?”

“ _ Twelfth Night _ is about loving someone you can’t be with,” Kevin retorted. “And you can’t deny Malvolio is a tragic figure.” 

Kevin was studying theatre direction, and was always on the brink of an epiphany regarding some old, boring play or another. As one of the best actors in the programme, Neil was always cast as one of the main roles in Kevin’s productions. The problem was that Neil could never keep his mouth shut when it came to Kevin’s ‘hot takes’ on classic plays, and Kevin couldn’t afford to cut an actor like Neil from the show. This resulted in countless arguments. Andrew would usually listen to them, half-amused, but tonight, he was too distracted.

Nicky had really thrown him off-centre with his revelation about bringing a blind date for Neil. Only a creep would agree to a blind date in a club like Eden’s, and Andrew was suddenly torn between his initial plan of getting off with Roland in the back room and the newer, more noble option of watching Neil’s back all night. 

His gaze flickered to Neil, who was, by this point, listing all the ways Kevin’s last play had been a failure, and wondered. Neil could take care of himself. He was as tactful as his personality allowed when letting people know he wasn’t interested, and he wasn’t afraid to tell someone to fuck off if things turned sour. But still-

Plates clacking against the table signalled the arrival of their food. As expected, Neil reached over and stole a handful of the sweet potato fries, flipping off Kevin as he ate them. Nicky started chatting to Aaron about his upcoming exhibition and Andrew tuned in and out of the conversation as he cut his syrup-drenched pancakes into neat, little squares.

They didn’t stick around for long after everyone had finished their food. Kevin and Aaron were antsy to get going and Nicky was eager to dance and introduce Neil to whatever the guy’s name was. Andrew refused to remember it on principle.

Eden’s was predictably packed on a Friday night. Andrew made more of a show of greeting the bouncers than usual, though he justified it with the fact that he hadn’t been to the club in a while, not because he wanted to impress Neil. Nicky texted furiously, trying to locate Neil’s date, while Kevin used his charms to snag them a table somewhere up on the first gallery. It was covered in sticky alcoholic residue and bottle caps, broken glass crunching under Andrew’s feet. The music was indistinguishably loud.

“Huh,” Neil said loudly, leaning into Andrew’s space without touching him. “To be honest, I kind of imagined you in a quiet, old-fashioned bar drinking whisky in moody silence. This is… unexpected.”

“Come on,” Andrew said, pinching his sleeve between two fingers and tugging. “Drinks.”

He didn’t really want to introduce Neil to Roland, but the alternative was leaving Neil with Nicky, who was yelling instructions into his phone on how to get to their table, which meant that Neil’s date would be here soon. Andrew just wanted Neil to himself for a few more minutes, and Roland was the lesser of two evils right now.

Neil stuck close to his back, blinking wide in the purple strobe lights that swept the dancefloor. They skirted the edge of it, Andrew’s feet knowing the path of least resistance without having to think about it. He felt wired; even more so than usual when he came here, and something spiked in his chest at the sight of Roland’s toned arms as he mixed cocktails behind the bar, something that made him think maybe tonight wasn’t a good night for this sort of thing after all.

“Andrew!” Roland beamed, handing off the cocktail and moving over to where Andrew and Neil had wedged themselves against the corner of the bar. People kept jostling them and Neil stumbled against Andrew’s back. For a moment, they were pressed together like on Andrew’s bike, snug and safe and warm.

Andrew took a deep breath.

“The usual?” Roland grinned. “Who’s this? You gonna need the back room to yourself tonight?”

He winked, and Andrew watched as Neil blinked slowly, gaze already wandering elsewhere. Maybe he hadn’t heard Roland over the noise, or maybe he hadn’t caught the meaning of what he’d insinuated. Andrew let out a breath he’d apparently been holding and gripped the edge of the bar tightly to steady himself.

“Soda for Neil,” he said. “Something fruity.”

Roland’s eyes flickered over Neil’s body, tightly coiled and sinuous in the flashing light. Andrew snapped his fingers in front of his face to draw his attention back to the tray of drinks he was making for them.

“Get to it, I don’t have all night,” he snapped. Roland stifled a smirk, but let enough of it show that Andrew saw.

“Alright, alright. You’re in a mood tonight. I’m on break in half an hour if you need me.”

Andrew opened his mouth to tell him to shut up, but Neil beat him to it.

“What would he need you for?” Neil asked, genuinely curious.

Both Andrew and Roland slid their gazes in Neil’s direction. For a split second, the deafeningly loud dance track sounded like a siren--a distress signal--and Andrew remained silent, listening to it screech inside his head and trying to figure out how to respond.

“Oh, you know,” Roland cut in, his eyes flickering between the two of them as if he were watching a particularly quick game of tennis, “Andrew and I sometimes hang out, chat, no big deal. We’re friends.”

“We are  _ not _ friends,” Andrew muttered, tugging the tray forward and passing it to his other hand. Neil just shrugged and turned to make his way back to the table, shooting Andrew an awkward glance as if to say  _ sorry for disturbing _ as he went. Andrew resisted the urge to stop him and settled for glaring at Roland instead.

“Come  _ on _ , man,” Roland said cheerily, “I didn’t know you were bringing a boyfriend. You never tell me anything about that stuff.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Andrew said.

“Then what’s the problem?” Roland crooned.

“Nothing,” Andrew replied, forcing his tone to remain neutral. “We won’t be seeing each other tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Roland replied easily, grabbing a freshly-washed glass and beginning to polish it. 

Andrew nodded a goodbye and then made his way through the crowd, raising the tray high above his head with expert balance. He’d lingered at the bar too long and now he’d lost Neil to the sea of bodies on the dancefloor. When he finally got back to the table, Neil was already there. There was someone sitting closely to him, and Nicky sat off to the side, blissfully babbling away, introducing them to each other.  _ Great _ , Andrew thought to himself as he approached.  _ This must be the date _ .    

Andrew busied himself handing out the drinks. Kevin and Aaron started chugging theirs as soon as the glasses were in their hands, and Andrew let Nicky’s slosh over the brim as he passed it to him. When Andrew finally gave Neil his soda, he made sure his face was as blank as possible.

“Thanks,” Neil said, offering him a tiny, golden trinket of a smile.

“I didn’t get you anything,” Andrew told Russell, automatically observing every detail of the guy’s appearance. He was tall, bearded, handsome in a smug-looking way. He knew Neil didn’t really give a flying fuck about appearances but the handsome part still had its own distinct sting. 

“That’s okay, partner,” Russell replied with an exaggerated shrug, causing Andrew to forcibly restrain himself from saying something sarcastic in response. “I’ll get us another round. Anyone want anything?”

“Another one of these,” Kevin piped up, waving around his half-empty glass.

“And  _ shots _ ,” Aaron called out. “Dozens and dozens of shots.”

“Neil,” Russell said, elongating the ‘e’ sound in a whiny sort of way. “Want to help me with the drinks?”

“He just went the last time-” Andrew began as Nicky jumped out of his seat and clapped his hands together.

“He’d love to,” Nicky exclaimed, dragging Neil to his feet. “Wouldn’t you, Neil?”

“Sure, I guess,” Neil mumbled.

Andrew watched them leave, paying close attention to the way Russell gawked when he noticed Neil’s ass in those stupid, spray-on jeans, and immediately reached for his drink, downing it on one large gulp.

They came back with the drinks and Neil continued to oscillate between stony silence and awkward monosyllables while Russell and Nicky talked and laughed enough for the rest of them. Aaron and Kevin both went off to dance when they had enough liquid courage in them and Nicky thought that was a  _ great  _ idea, whisking Neil away before Andrew could intervene. Neil’s protests that he wasn’t a good dancer fell on deaf ears.

Left alone at their table, Andrew cradled a shot glass in his hand and turned in his seat so he could lean on the banister and survey the writhing dance floor below. He had a lot of practice in picking out Kevin, Aaron and Nicky in the crowd, and once he’d spotted Nicky it wasn’t hard to find Russell the bearded giant and Neil, bopping along unenthusiastically while Russell gyrated his hips like he was trying to generate electricity with them.

Possessiveness seethed and roiled in Andrew’s chest, a dark, ugly thing. He blindly grabbed another drink off the table and downed it, eyes never leaving Neil. He’d been right in that he wasn’t much of a dancer, but it wasn’t because he lacked the body coordination; he just wasn’t enjoying himself, that much was clear. Andrew couldn’t decide whether to just go down there and put him out of his misery, or stand up and leave on his own. Nicky had designated himself their driver tonight, so it wasn’t like any of them needed him there, anyway. He could probably catch one of the bouncers at the end of the first shift and get a ride back to Columbia. He glanced over to the door--John was working tonight; nice, quiet John who owned a truck bigger than Andrew and Neil’s apartment and who, Andrew knew from experience, made very pretty noises when given head.

He blinked down at his empty glass and fished for another. In the brief moment where he’d been distracted, Neil and Russell had managed to vanish from the dancefloor. Andrew checked the bar and the gallery, but there was no sign of either of them, which only left the bathrooms or the staff rooms.

Stomach twisting unpleasantly--Andrew realised he may have had more drinks than he’d planned--he lurched to his feet, then sat back down heavily and waited for the room to stop spinning. Maybe he should stay right where he was. Neil wasn’t Andrew’s anything, and he was capable of fighting his own battles; he didn’t need a chaperone. And leaving without letting the others know was unnecessarily petty and dramatic. Not like Andrew at all.

Besides, he had to save the table for them.

He took a long, slow breath and sipped at Neil’s abandoned soda, hoping it would sober him up until the others came back. Then he closed his eyes for a second, just to rest them, and the next thing he knew was that his fist was in the process of colliding with someone’s face.

“Fuck!”

“Oh, shit… Andrew, are you okay?”

Some part of him felt gratified that Neil was checking on him first. Russell had stumbled a few steps away, gingerly prodding his nose and swearing. Neil hovered just out of reach, but he only had eyes for Andrew and didn’t spare his date a second glance.

“Wasn’t sleeping,” Andrew muttered, grabbing a drink off the tray that Russell and Neil had evidently brought. Nicky was talking to a group of people nearby, a flash of glitter in the corner of Andrew’s eye, and Kevin and Aaron were still lost to the crowd.

“You got a mean right hook there, partner.”

Russell had rallied and was inching closer to Neil, blatantly invading his personal space. The sight made Andrew itch like a phantom limb. Maybe he needed a cigarette.

Maybe he needed to finish his drink.

“Why don’t we head back to the house and play some drinking games?” Nicky yelled, peeking over Neil’s shoulder and smiling broadly at Andrew.

Andrew took about five seconds to decide it probably didn’t matter if they were at Eden’s or the Columbia house. It was going to be pretty shitty regardless and at least leaving was one step closer to the night being  _ over _ . He stood up and swayed slightly, nearly stumbling into Neil.

“Whoa,” Aaron muttered under his breath.

“Andrew,” Kevin said, suddenly serious, “you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Andrew said, thankful his speech was still intact and not betraying the opposite of what he’d just said.

His feet, on the other hand, stabbed him in the back. He tried to push through the cluster of stupidly tall guys standing in front of him, and tripped. He skidded forwards and caught the railing before he fell on his ass. 

“You  _ are  _ drunk,” Neil said, his jaw dropping almost comically.

“I am not drunk,” Andrew insisted. “If you gave me a crossword I bet I could do it in thr-  _ four  _ minutes.”

“That  _ would  _ be impressive,” Nicky said breezily. “You gonna need some help getting to the car?”

Andrew shook his head and jumped down the five steps in front of him, his boots landing on the sticky floor with a satisfying thud.

Without looking back, he strode past the bar and toward the exit. 

“Hey, Andrew, wait up-” Neil was calling after him, pushing through the narrow hallway to catch up.

When Neil reached out to tangle his hand in the fabric of Andrew’s sweatshirt, Andrew thought about drawing away, of telling Neil to  _ go  _ away--some unfair urge to dismantle and ruin everything coursing through him. 

Instead, he let him.

Their arms awkwardly looped together, they made their way out onto the lot. They wove around parked cars in silence, the wind chasing litter across the concrete. Nicky was singing somewhere behind them and Aaron and Kevin were bickering, and Andrew looked up at the star-studded sky and sighed.

“Where’s Ralph,” he asked, a vague afterthought.

“Ralph?” Neil asked. “Oh, you mean Russell? I… huh. Guess he stayed behind.”

“You forgot your date,” Andrew said, feeling a tug of something somewhere in his throat. Amusement? He was amused. Probably. Maybe. May-Bee.

Bee would know. He should call Bee.

“I forgot my date,” Neil agreed, laughter fizzing easily on the tip of his tongue. “Shit, I really am the worst date, am I?”

“Yes,” Andrew nodded. “You are the worst.”

They locked eyes for a moment, Neil’s twinkling with mirth, and then Neil started laughing for real and Andrew’s mouth pulled sideways and up of its own accord and his throat made a breathy, huffy noise that didn’t sound like him at all.

“Holy shit,” someone said behind them.

“Did that just happen?”

“Shh, don’t ruin it. Shit fuck, where’s my fucking phone.”

They reached the car and Andrew tried to open the door a few times until someone took pity on him and unlocked it. He crawled into the back seat on all fours and promptly collapsed, landing face-down in someone’s discarded jacket. He fingered the rough denim and ran his thumb over an embossed button, round and round until he got lost in the smooth sensation.

“Andrew, can I move your legs? We won’t all fit like this.”

“No,” Andrew said. He could move his damn legs himself. It was easy, super duper easy, all he had to do was find his left knee.

“Okay,” Neil said.

“My knee’s gone,” Andrew said.

“No, it’s not. It’s right here.”

“No. Gone.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” Neil asked, leaning into the car. Aaron was behind him, tapping his foot. They were all waiting. Waiting for Andrew to find his knee.

“Fine,” Andrew grumbled. He braced himself for the impact of Neil’s hands on his skin, but Neil merely pinched the fabric of his jeans between his fingers and pulled, expertly rearranging him until he could slide into the middle seat.

Then he put Andrew’s remaining feet in his lap.

“Oh,” Andrew said.

Nicky started driving.

“This is so surreal,” Kevin huffed from the passenger seat. “Are we sure we didn’t get the twins confused again?”

“Hey!” Aaron complained.

“Oh, shut up Aaron, last time you got drunk you looked at your phone background and asked me how Andrew knew Katelyn,” Neil teased.

“Did not.”

“Did too,” Neil grinned. He looked unreal in the film-reel slide of street lights over his face, and he still had Andrew’s feet in his lap like the heavy boots weighed nothing at all. Like Andrew’s baggage weighed nothing to him at all.

“So, what happened with Russell, Neil?” Nicky asked, catching Neil’s eye in the rear-view mirror.

“Who-?” Neil replied, dazedly, resting his hands on Andrew’s feet and leaning forward, “ _ oh _ . Nothing, really.”

“Are you going to see each other again?” Nicky went on, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I don’t think so,” Neil muttered. Aaron and Kevin had already started dozing so Neil’s voice was chipped down to a feather-light murmur. Andrew started to feel his eyes grow heavy and closed them, doing his best to snuggle into the leather interior of the car.

“Why not?” Nicky asked, looking devastated.

“Oh, you know, we didn’t really um,” Neil was saying, his index finger suddenly tracing an absent-minded circle just above Andrew’s ankle bone. Andrew stiffened, suppressing any visible sign of the pleasant shivers travelling up his limbs, and opened his eyes. As Neil searched for a word to describe how he was feeling, his gaze flickered to Andrew for just a millisecond, his expression oddly unreadable, then he quickly withdrew his hands, folded his arms. Andrew closed his eyes again and pretended not to care. “ _ Click _ ,” Neil said finally, finishing his train of thought. “We didn’t really click.”

“You are impossible, I swear,” Nicky began lamenting the impossible task of playing matchmaker for Neil, but Andrew wasn’t really listening. He was drifting away for real this time, the spot on his ankle where Neil’s warm fingers had just been feeling all lit-up, a ring in burning, red neon, like there’d been a trace of something left behind. It was the last thing he thought of before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell us how you feel n stuff, in the comments or over at [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com/) & [annawrites/moonix](https://annawrites.tumblr.com/) xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's all happening

Andrew woke up and felt bad.

Or maybe he’d been feeling bad before he woke up; he couldn’t tell. The world was reaffirming itself around him in slow pulses and his stomach threatened to spill over if he moved, so he stayed right where he was, still and stiff, and worked up to cracking his eyes open. Memories of the previous night floated around his mind, a scrapyard of light and sensations and words without context.

He was in his room in the house in Columbia.

Correction: he was in his bed in his room in the house in Columbia.

He didn’t remember locking the door, so it probably wasn’t locked, but some of the tension released his spine because this was still a safe place.

As safe as it got for people like Andrew, anyway.

The next thing he took stock of was his body--he was clothed, but missing his shoes and jacket, and he felt vile but in a passing way; nothing a couple of Aspirin, a bottle of water and maybe some caffeine couldn’t fix. In fact, the first two were already waiting for him on his bedside table--bless Nicky and his mothering instincts for once--and the caffeine could probably be found downstairs, once Andrew convinced his body to move.

A shower wouldn’t be amiss, either. Baby steps, though.

He closed his eyes again and dozed a little longer, until a noise downstairs startled him awake again. He rolled over slowly and felt for the Aspirin, swallowing two with water, then continued to sip at the bottle for a while and finally braced himself for getting up.

He went legs-first, trying to avoid pulling himself into an upright position for as long as possible, but froze when his foot hit something and the something yelped.

Peering over the side of his bed, Andrew found Neil curled up in a blanket nest on his floor, bed-haired and squinty-eyed, pillow creases on the side of his face.

“I slept on your floor,” Neil said.

“I can see that,” Andrew replied.

“I didn’t want you to choke on your own vomit or something,” Neil went on, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head.

“Uh huh,” Andrew mumbled. He was only half-way out of bed and already felt like he had to go back and escape into the oblivion of sleep. He forgot that his hangovers weren’t purely physical--an annoyingly vague sense of doom and gloom wriggled through him like a curse. He pressed his hands to his eyes and willed them to stop shaking.

“Are you okay?” Neil asked, genuinely concerned. “You- I’ve never seen you that drunk.”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Andrew snapped, annoyed at himself. He’d never lost count like that. He always considered how much he’d had to eat that day, kept track of how many drinks he was mixing. He knew exactly how much he could handle. Last night, his mind was just pulled in too many directions, a firework exploding outward into the night sky.

“Hey- it’s okay,” Neil said, untangling himself from the blankets and standing. “Do you want to get some breakfast?”

“Well, either I’ll eat it and feel instantly better,” Andrew muttered, getting up as well, “or, I’ll eat it, throw up, and _then_ feel instantly better.”

“A win-win situation,” Neil quipped.

“Some might say,” Andrew said with a shrug, making his way to the door and catching his reflection in the mirror. His clothes were rumpled and his hair was completely flat on one side and sticking up at all angles on the other. He let out a sound of disgust and instinctively ran his hand through it.

“You look fine,” Neil told him.

Andrew shot him a look and opened the door.

*

Andrew snatched the keys from Nicky and climbed in the driver’s seat. To drown out everyone’s nonsensical hungover chatter, he turned the radio on and violently twisted the volume control to the right so that a smothering mess of guitars and screeching filled the car.

“Soothing,” Kevin commented sarcastically.

Andrew kept his eyes glued to the road, swerving down the first turn-off that promised them food.

As it was a Saturday lunchtime, the diner was crowded. They ended up squeezing into a booth that was far too small for five people, Neil bookended by Andrew and Aaron with Nicky and Kevin on the other side. They read their menus in lethargic silence, until Aaron, finally, opened his mouth.

“You didn’t change,” he commented, nodding at Andrew’s creased sweatshirt.

Nicky’s eyes darted between Aaron and Andrew, before lingering on Neil for a second.

“Did _you_?” Andrew drawled in response. “Your clothes are so boring it’s hard to tell.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes but left it. Kevin, however, was studying Neil with a skeptical look on his face.

“What?” Neil asked, irritated.

“Nothing,” Kevin replied with a sigh, turning his attention back to his menu.

“So, uh, I got a text from Russell this morning,” Nicky said, changing the subject. “He said he enjoyed meeting you last night. He asked if-”

“I don’t care,” Neil interrupted. “I don’t want to see him again, Nicky.”

“Okay,” Nicky replied, holding his hands up in surrender. “Not to worry. We have plenty of other options.”

Neil sighed and pinched his nose between his fingers.

“What?” Nicky asked, forlorn. “You don’t want to?”

“I don’t know,” Neil mumbled. “Yes. No. _Yes_. I should-”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Kevin said. Andrew flicked him a look from where he was sitting studying his menu and pretending not to follow the conversation.

“Can we just leave it?” Neil asked, exasperated. “Let’s order.”

Andrew and Kevin both went for the greasiest options available. Aaron looked pale and pinched and ordered a side of plain toast with his coffee, and Neil picked moodily at his fruit salad and eggs, radiating discontent. Nicky kept trying to catch his eye across the table and Aaron and Kevin seemed to be having some sort of mute conversation with their eyebrows when Andrew stole all of Neil’s raspberries.

“What’s that?” Aaron suddenly asked, leaning slightly into Neil’s space and scrutinising his collar. Andrew craned his neck and spotted the faint smudge of a bruise, probably from where Andrew had basically stepped on him this morning.

“Hm? Oh,” Neil frowned. “Dunno. I bruise really easily.”

He thumbed at the small mark, then tugged at his shirt to cover it. Andrew had given him one of his old t-shirts to wear this morning and it was looser on him than Neil’s usual clothes. It clearly made him uncomfortable and Andrew cursed himself for not picking one of Nicky’s tighter ones instead.

“Are you sure?” Nicky asked, perking up. “That looked an awful lot like a hickey…”

Kevin choked on his coffee and Nicky patted him unhelpfully on the back until his coughing fit had passed.

“It’s not a hickey,” Neil scowled. “It was an accident. Andrew-”

“Oh my god,” Aaron said at the same time as Kevin supplied, “Holy fuck.”

Nicky stared between Andrew and Neil, gaping slightly.

“Wait,” he said, “is that why you didn’t like Russell? Are you two-”

“Are we fucking eating or what,” Andrew snapped loudly, something like panic boiling up inside him fast. He didn’t dare look at Neil, but Kevin and Nicky’s fish-mouth impressions weren’t particularly reassuring either, so he fixed his eyes back on his plate and grabbed his knife in one hand just to make a point.

“Fine,” Nicky said weakly, clutching his head. “I’m too hungover to deal with this.”

“You didn’t even drink,” Aaron said incredulously.

“I know,” Nicky sighed sadly. “It’s a Minyard hangover. My tolerance for you two has gone to shit since you moved out.”

The conversation crumbled away and everyone busied themselves with finishing off their food. Eating the last sliver of bacon off his plate, Andrew noticed his queasiness had miraculously subsided. When he looked up, he saw that Kevin was still pointedly studying Neil and a wave of annoyance rushed through him. As he opened his mouth to tell Kevin to mind his own business, he was cut off.

“The pot,” Kevin said suddenly, turning to Nicky. “I want in.”

“I thought you said betting on your friends’ love lives was tacky,” Nicky reminded him.

Beside Andrew, Neil let out a groan.

“That was, you know, _before_ ,” Kevin replied, ignoring Neil.

“You’ll have to speak to Allison,” Nicky told him. “She’s running it.”

“Maybe you should tell Reynolds to start running a different kind of pot,” Aaron said smugly, before immediately blanching when Andrew glared at him.

“No,” Neil snapped. “No more pots. I’m sick of you guys making all these weird bets-”

“Alright, alright,” Kevin cut him off. “Forget I said anything.”

“I’m done,” Neil said, pushing his plate aside and then leaning back. He looked past Aaron to stare out of the window, deliberately ignoring them all.

Andrew downed the grainy remnants of his coffee before standing up.

“I’m not finished,” Nicky began to protest, gesturing to his half-full orange juice.

“Don’t care,” Andrew replied, throwing down a couple of bills to cover the meal. “We’re leaving.”

Everyone slowly followed Andrew out of the diner and into the parking lot, pulling on their jackets as they went. Neil rushed ahead so that he could sit in the passenger seat, and Aaron, Nicky and Kevin crowded into the back of the car. Andrew wasn’t sure if it was because of their hangovers or the awkwardness at breakfast, but everyone was uncharacteristically quiet. He didn’t care which was the case to be honest. He just wanted to get home and hibernate for the rest of the weekend.

Andrew was too tired to drop everyone off at their individual dormitories so he parked the car somewhere in the middle of the campus and tossed Nicky his keys before climbing out. They all muttered their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

Neil was silent, radiating agitation for the entire walk back to their dorm. Andrew kind of hoped Neil wouldn’t want to talk about it; his eyes were dry and itchy with tiredness, and his brain felt like it had been loosened from his head to float around in the air like a lost jellyfish.

Andrew stabbed the key inside the lock, holding the door open behind him so that Neil could stomp inside.

“Can you believe them?” Neil began grousing as soon as the door clattered shut. “They talk about me like I’m not even there, like my life is some kind of huge joke.”

“They just don’t watch enough reality TV,” Andrew replied, wandering over to the kitchen and poking around in the freezer. “They’re starved for drama.”

“This dating thing is such a struggle for me,” Neil said, frowning. “It’s weird to think it’s entertaining for them.”

“Ignore them. The more you engage them, the more obsessed they become.”

“Can you even imagine what they’d be like if I actually had a partner?” Neil huffed, pacing in front of the television. Andrew found a lone strawberry popsicle wedged between two pizzas and triumphantly peeled off the frost-bitten wrapper. There was a quiet thump as Neil dropped onto the sofa, and Andrew bit into the popsicle to stop himself from turning around and looking at him all sprawled out and fluffed up like a pillow.

“I feel like,” Neil said slowly, his voice suddenly tight. “I don’t know. Like the others kind of thought we, uh. Hooked up or something.”

Andrew had to stuff half of the remaining popsicle in his mouth, wincing at the coldness and the pain that shot through his teeth. He coughed, blinking away the haze in front of his eyes, and switched on the coffee machine just for something to do.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, “don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Andrew ground out, rooting through cupboards even though the coffee tin was still on the counter where he’d left it the day before.

“Man, they’d probably leave me alone if I was dating you,” Neil laughed. “All you’d have to do is, like, look at them. Or pick up a knife. Are you making coffee?”

“Mm-hmm,” Andrew managed, hardly hearing him beneath the high-pitched, flatlining sound ringing in his head.

“Great. Could I have some?” Neil asked, tilting his head backwards so that it hung over the back of the couch and blinking at Andrew through upside-down, blue eyes.

Andrew hummed affirmatively and reached for another mug. He watched as the thin, brown liquid started trickling into the first, concentrating on the low hum of the machine and wishing that Neil would forget his train of thought.

“You know, dating you would actually be ideal,” Neil went on, immediately dashing Andrew’s hopes. “The betting pool would crash; everyone would knock it off with the nosiness and the speculating; Nicky’s terrible matchmaking would stop ruining my life. Can you imagine?”

Andrew stared at Neil flatly, unsure how to respond. Suddenly remembering the coffee, he turned to see it spilling over the rim of the mug and pooling on the countertop. He quickly switched the full mug with the empty one and then grabbed a cloth to wipe up the mess.

“ _Andrew_ ,” Neil pestered. “I said, can you imagine?”

“Yes,” Andrew answered blandly, watching the coffee soak into the cloth.

“Yes?” Neil repeated, sounding amused.

“No,” Andrew corrected himself. He sighed heavily through his nose and picked up the two coffee mugs, trying to remember how to behave normally.

“Which is it?” Neil asked, his lips quirking into a smile. He was kneeling on the cushions now, arms splayed across the back of the couch. Andrew walked over to him and handed him the steaming mug of coffee.

“Why are you asking?” Andrew fired back.

“ _Because_ ,” Neil grinned, promptly burning his hand on the hot coffee and setting it down on the table. “Because we could totally prank all of our friends in one go.”

“All of _your_ friends,” Andrew corrected automatically. Neil waved him off.

“And your brother and your cousin. Come on, it would be hilarious.”

“No,” Andrew said helplessly.

“Don’t be such a killjoy,” Neil chuckled. “Imagine their faces. I bet we could make Nicky shut up for at least, like, a minute. Maybe five.”

“And then what?” Andrew found himself asking and smothered his traitorous voice in a large gulp of coffee, realising too late that he’d forgotten to put sugar and cream in his. He gagged and put the mug on the table next to Neil’s. They were a set that Neil had bought in a sale last month--a bright orange one with a fox face and tiny triangle ears on the rim, and a black and white one with a panda face and round ears. They were utterly ridiculous, not to mention impractical, yet they were always the first ones Andrew grabbed when he made coffee for the both of them.

“Then we’d let them stew for a week or so,” Neil said excitedly. “Not answer any of their calls or texts. We could pretend we’re having a--what does Allison call them? Sexile? And in reality we’d just be having a movie marathon and doing all the stuff we always do anyway.”

Andrew nearly choked on his own spit and picked up his coffee again despite the fact that it tasted awful, just to wash down the sudden dry feeling in his mouth.

“A _sexile_ ,” he repeated, disbelieving.

“I know, right? Hilarious,” Neil laughed, flopping back against the couch. He always seemed to fill up all the empty space in their apartment, just by existing.

“Hilarious,” Andrew echoed. It sounded more like “funeral”. Specifically, his funeral. Maybe he should make a will and let Bee know which songs to play when they lowered him into the ground, just in case. No, scratch that, he wanted a cremation.

“We could even go on a date and put up a bunch of pictures on Instagram,” Neil continued.

Yes, cremation was a much better option. No more physical form. No feelings. Just a few handfuls of ash.

“Neither of us have an Instagram account,” Andrew pointed out.

“I have one, I just never use it,” Neil shrugged. He rolled his head to the side, still slumped against the cushions, and looked at Andrew with eyes that meant trouble. Not the usual kind of Neil Josten trouble, but the quiet, fond, soft-eyed kind, the one he reserved just for Andrew because he was a demon put on this earth specifically to torment him.

“If you don’t want to do it…”

“No,” Andrew said, except then his stupid mouth went and added, “let’s.”

“Really?” Neil’s face lit up the way it usually did when they were getting up to some private mischief, like when they made fake announcements over the loudspeaker at the supermarket or scribbled stupid stuff in the margins of Kevin’s scripts.

“Just for a week,” Andrew replied, shrugging. “It’s time you had a laugh at their expense.”

In that moment, he imagined telling Nicky, Kevin, _Aaron_ that he and Neil were dating. If their gaping mouths at breakfast were anything to go by, their heads would probably collectively explode at the news. It would be funny, just like Neil thought it would be. Aside from that though, Andrew’s heart felt kind of bruised at the mere thought of it. Pretending to date Neil might make him feel more pathetic than ever, amplifying the longing from a whisper to a shout.

Then again-

Andrew turned to look at Neil. His tired eyes appeared bluer in the gloomy apartment lamplight, and his hair was still all fluffed-up from sleeping on the floor all night. He was still wearing that loose t-shirt that exposed the elegant line of his collarbone and the petal-shaped bruise that lingered just above it. He smelled faintly of the night before: sticky soda, boy sweat and crumpled bed sheets. Andrew looked away.

Maybe, just maybe, a week would be enough. A week of living out what he’d been fantasising about for years. A week of pretending. A week like that might actually, _finally_ get Neil Josten out of his system.  

“When shall we do it?” Neil wondered aloud, flicking through his phone calendar.

“When are you next at the supermarket?” Andrew asked, doing the same.

“Monday,” Neil told him, wrinkling his nose. “Graveyard shift.”

“Same,” Andrew replied darkly. “And then I’ve got class Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday daytime.”

“I have rehearsal most weekdays,” Neil agreed, beginning to bite at his thumbnail; it was a habit Andrew wasn’t sure he even knew he had.

“What about tomorrow?” Andrew asked.

“I have an essay to finish,” Neil said, sighing melodramatically. “And lines to go over, as usual. _Twelfth Night_ is a bitch.”

“There are a couple of stories I have to finish for Tuesday,” Andrew said, the words tripping off his tongue slowly, as if they weren’t even his. “We could drive to a café and-”

“And what?” Neil prompted, when Andrew stopped talking.

“Study,” Andrew finished. “We could study.”

“Are you asking me on a _study date_?” Neil asked, starting to laugh.

“Might as well start somewhere,” Andrew muttered, feeling his face heat up a little. He pressed his panda mug against his cheek to hide any potential blushing.

“Well, Kevin’s dropping off _another_ set of notes for me tomorrow,” Neil said, rolling his eyes. “And then he’s going to meet some of the others in the park for a game, which he’ll inevitably try to rope us into. Could be the perfect opportunity to drop the bombshell?”

“You figure it out,” Andrew said, waving his hand in front of his face. “I’m too hungover and tired for all this energetic scheming.”

He finished off his coffee and got to his feet, eager to crawl into bed and nap for a couple of hours.

“Sweet dreams _boyfriend_ ,” Neil called after him.

He knew it was all part of the game, but the word made Andrew’s hand still on the door handle. When he turned around, Neil was smirking at him conspiratorially. He tried his best to mirror it before slipping into his bedroom. He methodically put on a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants before wrapping himself up in the blankets and curling up in a corner of his bed.

One week, he told himself. He’d get to have one week of being Neil’s boyfriend, and then he was going to get over him if it killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let the games begin ;)
> 
> catch us on tumblr @ [annawrites (moonix)](http://annawrites.tumblr.com) & [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which dramatic exits, shakespearean insults and hand-holding occur. we hope you enjoy!!

Andrew was not ready.

Kevin was coming over in less than half an hour to drag them to the park and Andrew was still in his pyjamas. Neil was still in full scheming mode, scribbling down ideas on their shopping list pad in the kitchen, and all Andrew wanted to do was hide under his covers for the rest of the day.

Fuck that. He was going to get this over with.

He put on his customary black jeans and a t-shirt Neil had given him for his birthday last year. They had a weird tradition of not giving each other their presents until a few days after their actual birthdays, because neither of them really enjoyed celebrating those. It was Neil who’d started the trend of hiding them in ever more ridiculous places, and this particular t-shirt had been rolled up and stuffed inside an empty shampoo bottle. Andrew ran his fingers over the soft fabric and felt a tug of amusement at the memory.

“Andrew,” Neil greeted him when he came out of his room. “How do you feel about hand-holding?”

“What?” Andrew replied, his mouth dry.

“Are you pro- or anti-?” Neil steamrolled on impatiently. 

Andrew’s hands twitched a little and he shoved them in his pockets. He’d thought about holding hands with Neil countless times. He’d imagined their fingers woven together like the tangled roots of some old tree, tracing lazy circles against Neil’s knuckles with his fingertips, bringing them up to his lips to plant a hopscotch trail of kisses there.

He wasn’t sure if he could do this.

Neil was watching him, waiting for an answer, when the buzzer whined. It was Kevin’s tell-tale ring, one long blast followed by a couple of shorter ones. Neil’s smile widened playfully as he headed for the door. Andrew left him to it and went to the kitchen to grab the coffee Neil had prepared for him earlier. He sipped it tentatively, pleased to find that Neil wasn’t attempting to slowly wean him off the sugar and cream the way Aaron had tried to do. It was rich and sweet, still warm. He gulped it down and placed the empty mug in the sink: today’s winner had a unicorn farting a rainbow on it. 

Kevin arrived in his regular soccer gear: baggy shorts and a shirt emblazoned with the logo of his favourite team. His soccer boots were slung over his shoulders, laces tied together in a tidy knot. He took one look at Neil and his wild grin before narrowing his eyes. When Neil just continued to smirk at him, his gaze slid towards Andrew.

“What’s up with you two?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” Neil asked, feigning innocence.

“You have that look in your eye,” Kevin said wearily. “That I-know-something-you-don’t-know look.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neil said with a shrug. “You got those notes?”

“Yes,” Kevin said, crouching down to rifle through his backpack. “I’ve decided to change the interpretation.”

Neil deflated at that, glancing down at the script and quickly scanning Kevin’s scribbles.

“Thea was right,” Kevin continued. “The tragedy thing was silly.”

“I told you that a million times,” Neil replied darkly, flipping through the pages and looking increasingly panicked. 

“I’ve decided I want to take inspiration from Shakespeare and play with gender and performance,” Kevin went on, his words smooth and canned, like he was doing a PowerPoint presentation for his lecturers. “You’re not Orsino anymore. You’re Viola.”

“No shit,” Neil hissed, waving the pages in Kevin’s face. “You switched the cast a few weeks before the performance date?”

“That’s theatre,” Kevin said, shrugging.

Neil’s mouth opened and then closed again. It was rare Andrew saw him reach a level of irritation where he was lost for words. Neil was staring at Kevin like he wanted to strangle him with his own boot laces. 

Instead, he blurted out, “Andrew and I are going on a date.”

Kevin blinked several times in rapid succession, then his eyes flitted over to Andrew and he frowned.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, we are,” Neil insisted. Then he held out the notes and dropped them, demonstratively letting them cascade all over the floor and Kevin’s shoes. “And I’m not playing Viola. Fuck you.”

With that, he grabbed his sneakers and walked out, leaving Kevin gaping like a fish. Neil’s specialty as an actor was definitely the dramatic exit, Andrew thought as Kevin crawled around on his hands and knees, gathering up the scattered papers and muttering darkly to himself.

“So, I take it you’re not coming to the park?” he asked Andrew who was trying to surreptitiously edge around him and put on his boots.

“You heard the man,” Andrew said. “We are going on a date.”

“Like fuck you are,” Kevin snorted. “Since when do  _ you  _ go on dates?”

“Since today.”

Kevin looked up from where he was frantically sorting papers.

“Wait, really?” His face turned from surprised to dismayed. “I haven’t even talked to Allison yet.”

“That sounds like your problem,” Andrew told him, poking him with the tip of his boot until he scrambled to his feet.

“Ouch, I’m going, I’m  _ going…  _ Can you at least take this and give it to Neil? Maybe he’ll change his mind if he reads it-”

“Out,” Andrew said, pushing him for real now. “He said no.”

Kevin scowled at him and stomped off. Andrew supposed he’d tell the rest of the group how they were ditching what Nicky had dubbed the Sunday Soccer Squad to go on a date. He didn’t expect they’d believe him; it was the kind of thing they’d all want to see with their own eyes. 

He locked the door and made his way outside to find Neil, who was leaning against the motorcycle and looking up at the sky, his hands tucked inside the pockets of his bomber jacket. It was a silky turquoise-blue with baggy white sleeves and one of the few pieces of clothing he owned that Andrew didn’t hate. Briefly, Andrew wondered if Neil had picked it out because he knew Andrew liked it.  _ Unlikely _ , he decided, shaking such a stupid thought out of his mind.

“You should take this,” Andrew said, holding out the script.

“Are you messing with me?” Neil asked.

“What are you going to do while I write if you’re not going to learn your lines?” Andrew pointed out.

“I might as well learn every part at this point,” Neil sulked, grabbing it out of Andrew’s hand and rolling it up to stick in his back pocket. 

They climbed onto the motorcycle and took off. The pale, blue sky above them was scored with airplane trails and thin, gauzy clouds, the sun a far-off coin of glaring white. Andrew swerved in and out of cars as they rushed along the busy roads to get to the nearest town. There was a coffee house there called  _ One More Chapter _ . It doubled as a bookstore and the tables were haphazardly scattered within a small maze of overflowing bookshelves. 

They found an empty table for two and sat down. Andrew took out his laptop and went to order while it booted up. As he waited in the queue, his eyes kept being pulled from the chalkboard menu to the table where Neil was sitting. They’d been here before to study a few times, but slapping the word  _ date _ on what they were doing made everything feel different, like the atmosphere had subtly shifted, allowing in this tremor of risk, possibility. Andrew let out a noise of disgust under his breath and reminded himself that it was all fake; it was a joke. The thought cleared his head just as he was called over to the counter. Andrew ordered their usuals--a caramel latte for himself and an iced mango smoothie for Neil--as well as a couple of apricot croissants before making his way back to the table. 

“Kevin says nobody believes we’re on a date,” Neil said, smirking up at Andrew as he set down their drinks. 

“Figures,” Andrew replied, shrugging. Neil tapped away on his phone, leg bouncing gently, then he put it facedown on the table and slurped noisily at his smoothie.

“We’ll have to come up with a way to convince them,” he mused, gazing out of the window. “Do you think anyone was betting on us getting together? What happens with the money in the pot if no one’s right?”

Andrew stuffed one half of his apricot croissant in his mouth and didn’t reply. His mind was racing with stupid ideas--agreeing to kiss Neil just for show, holding hands, feeding Neil bites of his croissant and playing with his hair. He tamped down on another disgusted noise at himself and washed his croissant down with coffee, burning his mouth in the process.

“Let’s take a picture,” Neil said suddenly and picked up his phone again. “Here, scoot over.”

He got up and walked around to Andrew’s side of the table. Andrew slid down the bench, taking his plate and mug with him, and Neil squeezed in beside him and tried to angle his phone so both of their faces were visible and not horribly distorted. He snapped a few pictures, making different faces where Andrew always looked the same, then flicked through them and frowned.

“That just looks fake,” he muttered. “How do people normally do this?”

Andrew held his breath for a few seconds and counted silently to ten. Then he took the phone from Neil’s slack grip, grabbed his hand and pulled it down on the table between their powdered sugar dusted plates, lightly tangling their fingers together.

He took a picture of that, tossed the phone back at Neil and let go.

“Oh,” Neil said, “good thinking. Can I post it?”

“I thought that was the whole plan,” Andrew mumbled. Neil was too engrossed in his phone to notice when Andrew stole a piece of his still untouched croissant. His palm was traitorously sweaty and he hoped Neil hadn’t noticed. Neil was still sitting next to him, monitoring his Instagram feed as notifications started to pop up, and Andrew knew that he wouldn’t get any writing done like this even if his life depended on it.

Not that Andrew had a history of valuing his life very highly--but he was still here, and that counted for something, at least according to Bee.

“I’m going to leave them hanging,” Neil announced, silencing his phone and pocketing it before turning his attention to Andrew. 

“Good,” Andrew said, tapping at random letters on his laptop keyboard as if to make a point.

Neil sighed and pulled out his script. He studied it carefully as he ripped his croissant to pieces trying to get to the apricot in the centre. Satisfied Neil was actually working, Andrew flexed his fingers above the keys and reread the work he’d done earlier that week. He wasn’t surprised to find it completely sucked, and he highlighted the single paragraph and hit delete. By his side, Neil was softly murmuring his lines, fidgeting with the ends of his hair as he did so. Andrew swallowed the dregs of his coffee and contemplated ordering another. Before he could make up his mind, Neil sighed and leant forward, cupping his chin in his hands thoughtfully.

“You ever think you made the wrong decision?” He asked. “Studying writing?”

Andrew stared blankly at the empty document and the blinking cursor that seemed to be constantly mocking him. 

“No,” he replied.

“Back when things were really shitty, I joined all these after-school clubs so I wouldn’t have to go straight home when the bell rang,” Neil said. “Drama was my favourite because for a little while, I could pretend to be somebody else.”

Andrew understood that. When he wrote, it felt like escaping. 

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” he told Neil, feeling that low thrum in his blood that surfaced on the rare occasions they talked about Neil’s past. 

“I guess it’s just different now,” Neil said, smiling. “I enjoy it, and I’m good at it. I’m just being over-dramatic because it’s hard work.”

“You? Over-dramatic?” Andrew replied, flicking Neil’s knuckles. “Never.”

Neil let out a laugh and picked up one of the leftover scraps of pastry littering his plate. 

“Want some?” He asked, holding it out to Andrew. Andrew’s gaze dipped to the curl of sugary pastry in Neil’s fingers and hummed affirmatively. Neil raised his eyebrows invitingly, gesturing for Andrew to eat it directly from his hand. Andrew felt something like a taut string being plucked pinging in his chest and he leant down, parting his lips. Instead of taking the pastry, he blew hard, sending the piece of croissant flying into Neil’s hair.

“Lines,” he said firmly, nodding at the papers strewn across the table.

“You’re a jerk,” Neil lamented, batting at a smudge of powdered sugar on his shoulder.

“Is that one of your lines, because otherwise I’m not listening,” Andrew said.

“You mean I can insult you all I want if I phrase it like Shakespeare?”

“Tut tut,” Andrew made, “that’s not how you treat your boyfriend.”

“Away you three-inch fool,” Neil told him, mouth quirking into a smile even as he bent over his papers.

They worked in silence for a while, still sitting side by side at the table even after Neil returned with a refill of their drinks. Andrew managed to write about a page of meaningless drivel, too distracted by Neil repeating lines to himself under his breath and the way they were pressed up against each other on the small bench. Every movement Neil made reverberated in Andrew’s body. He was unaware of the other patrons in the coffee shop, their booth a safe little bubble in the bustle of the store.

Neil went to the bathroom after a while, stretching his spine as he went, and Andrew waited until he was out of sight before pulling out his phone and opening Instagram. He’d made a dummy account last night, just in case, and used it to quickly scroll through the comments on the picture of their hands that Neil had uploaded captioned, “Best date ever.”

Most of them were just the same barely legible crap that he’d come to expect from Neil’s friends. Allison still seemed suspicious, Renee thankfully hadn’t made a public statement yet though she’d sent Andrew a very carefully phrased message that he had yet to reply to.

Aaron, unfortunately, had had no such restraint and had commented with the phrase, “fucking finally” and a single eye-roll emoji.

Andrew was on the verge of hacking his Instagram account and deleting the comment--Aaron still used the same uninspired password he always did, monalisa1, like ten thousand art students weren’t using a variation of the same damn thing. He was interrupted by Neil returning and sliding onto the bench beside him and promptly dropped his phone under the table.

“How many missed calls from Nicky?” Neil asked, grinning, as Andrew came up red-faced and hit his head on the table.

“None yet. All I’ve received is a bunch of gifs exclusively showing shocked faces from  _ Queer Eye _ ,” Andrew replied, rubbing the sore spot on his head as Neil chuckled. 

“Tomorrow will be interesting,” Neil mused. 

Andrew hummed non-committedly as he furiously texted Aaron to take the comment down.

“Are they giving you grief too?” Neil asked, nudging Andrew playfully with his elbow.

“Something like that,” Andrew muttered. 

“You wanna stay much longer?” Neil asked, catching a sudden yawn in his fist. “I’m kinda beat.”

Andrew was feeling wired from all the coffee but it had instilled in him this specific kind of restlessness that he always failed to channel into writing. 

“Let’s head out,” he said, getting to his feet. 

They wandered along the criss-crossing avenues of the town until they reached the spot where Andrew’s bike was parked. 

“That was nice,” Neil remarked as he pulled on his helmet. “In a way, it’s a shame it was fake. I enjoyed it much more than all those stupid dates Nicky set me up on.”

Andrew let out an ironic laugh that he immediately hoped Neil wouldn’t read too much into. 

“I mean-” Neil went on, “I guess that’s because it was just me and you. Like, it was easy, you know?”

“You  _ must  _ be tired,” Andrew said, and he wasn’t sure if it was the nonsense spilling out of Neil’s mouth or his excessive caffeine intake, but his heart was suddenly beating very fast inside his chest. “You’re babbling.”

“Shut up,” Neil mumbled. “Let’s go home.”

They rode back the way they’d came, the honeyed pink tones of the early evening sky beginning to wash away all the blue. As was the case the past hundred or so times they’d ridden together, Neil’s arms were wound around Andrew’s tummy, his hands clasped together tightly as if he thought he’d fall off if he let go for even a millisecond. Like the studying, the contact wasn’t a new thing and yet, Andrew felt it again: that tremor, like an almost unnoticeable shift in the weather. He inhaled the sharp bite of the breeze and let it blow the idea out of his mind. 

He raced into the campus and pulled up just outside their dorm. Neil slid down from the bike and unbuckled his helmet. Andrew cleared his throat and Neil’s gaze swivelled over to him. 

“I’m going to the gym for an hour,” Andrew told him, hoping Neil wouldn’t want to join him. He was still fuelled from the coffee and felt like going a round or two with a punchbag. It might expel some of that wildly buzzing energy and help him sift through his thoughts. 

“Oh, sure,” Neil said, blinking rapidly a few times before shooting Andrew a friendly smile. 

“See you later,” Andrew said, settling back into the seat.

“Yeah, later,” Neil repeated. “Thanks for today.”

Andrew shrugged.

“It wasn’t... weird, was it?” Neil asked, a little unsurely. 

_ You have no idea _ , Andrew thought to himself, all the while shaking his head.

Neil let out a relieved laugh and grinned impishly. “It was fun, right?” 

“They’re going to shit bricks tomorrow,” Andrew agreed, mirroring Neil’s casual attitude. 

Neil flicked up his hand as a goodbye. After he’d gone inside, Andrew slowly drove over to the university, his mind whirring like the weary, overworked fan inside his fucked-up laptop. He’d had an enjoyable afternoon, better than any he’d had in a long time. That said, all he could think was  _ one day down _ . These two thoughts were at war with one another, and after going several rounds at the gym he was no closer to reconciling the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are [lolainslackss](https://lolainslackss.tumblr.com) and [annawrites](https://annawrites.tumblr.com) on tumblr and we thrive on kudos, comments and love :*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring pesky siblings, supermarket flirting, and an extremely fancy fake date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy valentine's ya ~~filthy animals~~ lovesick fools

Andrew spent the Monday in a daze, physically present in his classes but mentally checked out. His brain kept replaying all the things Neil had said to him the day before, backed by an old-fashioned laugh track and subtitles made out of the comments under their date picture that had cheekily advised Neil there were better options out there for him.

Having failed to call him several times, Nicky sent him a long message around lunchtime saying that he was happy for him and apologising for trying to set Neil up with Russell that night. The wording was uncharacteristically careful, like Nicky had meant to say a lot of other, not so flattering things but held himself back by the skin of his teeth.

It was, of course, Aaron who tracked him down first. Andrew had just finished his last seminar of the day and was on his way home for a nap before his shift at the store, stopping by the crappy campus coffee shop for a caffeine fix.

“Iced white chocolate mocha,” he told the barista.

“Make that two,” someone piped up behind him. Andrew just about stopped himself from “accidentally” stepping on his brother’s foot. They had never had much of that mythical twin connection, but Aaron had an uncanny sense for where Andrew was sometimes and Andrew hated it.

“I have work,” Andrew bluntly informed Aaron, taking his iced coffee and moving to walk away. Aaron grabbed his own cup and hurried after him, not so easily shaken off.

“So, you and Neil,” he said.

“So, me and Neil,” Andrew said, resigning himself to whatever unpleasant things Aaron was going to say to him.

“You’re…”

“We’re…”

“Dating,” Aaron finished, sipping his coffee. “Really?”

“Really,” Andrew said, wondering if he could get away with just recycling Aaron’s words back at him for the entirety of the conversation.

“How exactly did that happen?”

“None of your business.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes and walked sideways for a moment just to watch Andrew’s face.

“He never said anything to me. About being into you or anything.”

“Yes, well,” Andrew said, squashing the urge to strangle him. Of course Neil had never said anything like that, because Neil wasn’t _actually_ into him and never would be.

“I tried to talk to him earlier but he just brushed me off,” Aaron continued. “Normally all I have to do is exist and I’ll hear about what he had for breakfast and why he hates a particular brand of boxer briefs because they always slip into his buttcrack when he runs.”

Andrew tried very hard not to think about Neil’s buttcrack.

“But maybe he just doesn’t like to show his hand,” Aaron went on. “He’s kinda like you that way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Andrew asked, impatiently pulling out his phone to check the time. He was going to be late for his nap if Aaron didn’t shut up and move out of his way. If he was late for his nap, he would either have to cut his nap time short or get up later than usual, which meant he wouldn’t be properly awake yet in time for his shift. Neither option was appealing.

“I _mean_ ,” Aaron went on, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly, “that you never admitted out loud that you liked him either.”

“You’re _so_ good at guessing,” Andrew said coldly. “You should go on one of those game shows where you guess the prices of dish soap and sticky tape. You’d make a fortune.”

“I’m not guessing,” Aaron retorted, “I’m perceptive.”

Andrew snorted.

“Anyway,” Aaron went on. “I just wanted to say that it’s… good. It’s nice it finally happened.”

“Stop saying things like that,” Andrew warned him. “And don’t say things like that to him.”

“What’s the big deal?” Aaron asked. “Now that you guys are together why should it matter if he finds out you’ve been in love with him since day one?”

“Because I say so,” Andrew bit out firmly, nudging Aaron aside and striding over to his motorcycle.

“So you admit you’ve been in love with him since day one?” Aaron called after him smugly. Andrew gave him the finger and shoved his helmet on, grateful for the convenient shield between him and the world.

He drove off, making a mental note to very closely monitor Aaron’s social media presence over the next few days.

*

He woke up from his nap earlier than planned, feeling tacky with sweat. He’d dreamed about kissing Neil in front of their friends and was both uncomfortable at the general concept and uncomfortably aroused. The apartment was quiet, there was just a distant rumble of traffic and the hum of the fridge when Andrew padded into the kitchen for a glass of water. He stood by the window as he sipped it, watching the sunset smoulder its way down the buildings and trees outside and waiting for his heartbeat to slow down.

His next appointment with Bee was in two days. He’d just have to make it through those two days, and then he’d be able to get some of this mess off his chest. The thought of actually telling Bee about the phenomenally stupid thing he’d agreed to made his stomach churn in protest, but he knew it was a necessary evil and that he would feel relieved after.

At least Bee could be counted on to always tell him when he fucked up.

Since he was awake now, he made use of the remaining time to take a quick shower and throw together a couple of sandwiches. Neil tumbled out of his room just as Andrew finished tidying up, hair a sticky mess and wearing only boxers and a lopsided The 1975 t-shirt that revealed part of his collarbone. Andrew swallowed and looked away, wordlessly passing one of the plates to him along with the cup of coffee he’d just poured for himself. On the cup was a crude drawing of Lionel Richie and the words _Hello. Is it tea you’re looking for?_

“Oh my god,” Neil moaned. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver. I feel like my brain’s been put through one of those paper shredders.”

They ate their sandwiches in comfortable silence, the coffee taking its time to shake away their post-nap grogginess.

“I wish we didn’t have to go to work,” Neil said, picking at the crust of his sandwich and glancing at the couch longingly. “Imagine if we just curled up in a blanket and stayed here instead.”

Andrew considered this. They could order Chinese food, watch a stupid movie and nod off on the couch. It _did_ sound appealing.

“Just think of the money,” he muttered; it was the same mantra he repeated to himself before every shift.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Neil said as he got to his feet. “I just need to take the quickest shower in history then I’ll be ready to go. Thanks for the sandwich.”

Andrew slowly changed into his riding leather as he waited for Neil to get ready, mentally preparing himself for the brain-numbing shelf stacking he’d be doing for hours on end. Neil resurfaced looking cleaner and more awake and they headed out.

They rode to work the usual way and walked inside the supermarket together. As they made their way to the staff room, Neil chatted about how the news of them dating had already started making the rounds at school. They’d yet to be seen together in public since the whole farce started, but eventually they’d have to face Neil’s usual lot. They’d be under a different level of scrutiny then.

They each changed into their uniforms and exchanged goodbyes before heading to their respective parts of the supermarket. Andrew scanned the noticeboard and found that he and Jeremy were stationed in the bakery aisle. They had to sort through the bread and baked goods and get rid of anything that was about to go bad. Andrew grunted a hello to an annoyingly upbeat Jeremy and then put his earbuds in. As he listened to the latest episode of one of his favourite podcasts, he began to zone out. He’d been working for about an hour, sneakily snacking on stale cinnamon rolls, when a familiar hand appeared in front of his face, waving for his attention.

He pulled out his earbuds and turned around. “Should you be away from the café?” he asked Neil.

“It’s so boring over there,” Neil told him. “I’ve sold like, one coffee.”

“If there’s a robbery, don’t blame me,” Andrew replied.

“If I get in trouble, I’ll just tell them my boyfriend is so dreamy I can’t stay away from him,” Neil teased. “That’s a valid excuse, right?”

Across the aisle, Jeremy shot them a curious look.

“I bet it’ll fly in court,” Andrew deadpanned.

“I brought my script but trying to learn that is even more tedious than clockwatching,” Neil went on, fiddling with the little plastic tab on one of the loaves of bread in Andrew’s arms.

Andrew opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sound of heels furiously clacking against the supermarket floor.

He and Neil turned to see Allison standing at the end of the bakery aisle pointing an immaculately manicured finger at the two of them.

“So, the rumours are true,” she said, striding towards them as Renee appeared at her side, offering them an apologetic smile.

“I told you personally that the rumours are true,” Neil said, not moving away from Andrew’s side. “Earlier today when you cornered me? Remember?”

“It’s different seeing it with my own eyes,” Allison went on, squinting at them. “I mean, look at you two, standing here flirting. How did nobody see this coming?”

Beside Andrew, Neil huffed out a laugh.

“What do we do with the pot?” Allison continued, looking between them as if they were supposed to offer some grand solution. Unfortunately, Renee intervened before Andrew could tell her where she could shove her stupid pot.

“Well, a couple of people bet on Neil _not_ finding love with anyone Nicky set him up with,” she pointed out. “Technically they’re correct.”

“ _Technically_ ,” Allison repeated, as if it were a dirty word.

“You’ve won the pot more than once on a technicality,” Renee reminded her teasingly. “Didn’t hear you complaining then.”

Allison harrumphed and tapped the tip of her shoe against the floor.

“How did this happen, then?” she asked, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. “I want all the juicy details.”

“Don’t tell her, Andrew. She already asked me for the juicy details earlier,” Neil grinned. “And I told her a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Andrew’s not a gentleman, though,” Allison pointed out.

“We hooked up at Eden’s and now he thinks we’re boyfriends,” Andrew drawled around a mouthful of cinnamon roll. “It’s pathetic, really.”

“Actually,” Neil said, and Andrew quickly clapped his hand over Neil’s mouth before he could come up with some stupid sappy story of how they got together. Neil was a good liar, unless he was lying to Andrew, but there was something to be said for keeping the mystery going a little longer just to annoy Allison and the others. Besides, Andrew really did not need any more silly ideas knocking about in his brain.

“Wait,” Jeremy piped up. “You guys are really dating, then? I thought that was a joke.”

“We are really dating and it’s not a joke,” Neil said. Or, tried to, anyway - with Andrew’s hand still over his mouth it came out a lot more muffled. He shot Andrew an amused look, then had the nerve to lick his palm.

“Gross,” Andrew informed him, wiping his damp hand on Neil’s shirt.

“More like cinnamony sweet,” Neil teased and demonstratively licked his lips. Andrew hurriedly dropped his gaze to the bread he was meant to be sorting.

“Wow, that was positively filthy,” Allison commented. “Renee, I think we could open up a new pot. See if anyone can guess how they got together.”

“Maybe,” Renee murmured softly, her eyes unnervingly unblinking as she stared at Andrew.

“Did you guys literally come to the supermarket in the middle of the night to pry into our personal lives?” Neil asked, feigning indignance.

“No,” Allison snapped, flashing him a murderous grin. “I need tampons.”

“Are you trying to freak us out by talking about your menstrual cycle?” Neil called after her as she stomped away, his voice growing increasingly louder until he was yelling. “Well it won’t work. We’re _very_ mature.”

“Clearly,” Andrew remarked dryly once he’d finished.

“I should follow her before I lose her,” Renee told them. “Andrew--you want to meet up later this week? Catch up?”

“Later,” Andrew agreed, his voice flat.

Renee smiled before wandering down the aisle and out of sight. Beside Andrew, Neil laughed, the sound all soft and twinkly like tiny bells on a Christmas ornament.

“You really don’t care about getting fired do you?” Andrew asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh no,” Neil muttered sarcastically. “You’re right. I should get back and make sure the milk hasn’t gone sour from boredom.”

“Okay,” Andrew replied, feeling a sudden twinge of disappointment.

“Later, babe,” Neil said cheekily as he began to wander off.

“Later, babe,” Andrew repeated without really thinking it through.

When he turned around to start concentrating on the precarious mound of croissants that was next on his agenda, Jeremy was staring at him incredulously.

“What?” Andrew asked.

“Am I hallucinating, or did you just call Neil Josten _babe_? And get away with it?” Jeremy asked.

“You were hallucinating,” Andrew told him, before putting his earbuds back in and letting the music drown out the world around him.

_Two days down._

*

Andrew usually liked to sleep in after a night shift, but was woken up by someone thumping on their apartment door at nine AM. He unknotted his limbs from the tangled web of bedsheets and padded out of his room to open the door, fiercely intent on killing whoever was on the other side.

“Package for Neil Josten,” the delivery guy said impatiently, thrusting the brown, cardboard box into Andrew’s hands.

Andrew awkwardly nestled the package between his elbow and his hip as he scribbled a signature, glaring at the delivery guy the entire time.

“Thanks,” the delivery guy said, striding away down the hallway.

Andrew flipped him off and slammed the door shut.

“Who was that?” came Neil’s voice from behind him. The question came out all smooth at the edges, bookended by cat-like yawns. Andrew twirled around on his bare feet, tossing the package at Neil as he pushed past him.

Neil caught it deftly and inspected the postal marks.

“It’s a care package from England,” he told Andrew. “Uncle Stuart came through for us again.”

Andrew contemplated going back to bed, but he had class in a few hours and he might as well try to get some work done. If they’d been sent some of that fancy English hot chocolate, it would be the perfect thing to mix with his morning coffee to make a mocha.

Neil opened the package and started arranging the products on the table, lining up boxes of tea and biscuits, packets of crisps and peanuts in increasingly ridiculous flavours (what even _was_ Worcester sauce, Andrew wanted to know), chocolate packed away in shiny, purple wrappers, and finally, a couple of tins of hot chocolate.

Andrew nabbed one of the tins and made his way over to the kitchen, the tiles cold against the soles of his feet. As he began making coffee, dumping two heaped spoonfuls of hot chocolate mixture in a mug depicting ugly Christmas sweaters, Neil started chatting about their encounter with Allison and Renee.

“That was so much fun,” Neil was saying, popping a handful of salt and vinegar flavoured peanuts in his mouth. “We have to take it up a notch though.”

Andrew scrunched up his nose as he thought about what taking it up a notch could possibly entail, his mind wandering to several obscene places.

“You know what we have to do?” Neil asked excitedly. “We have to go on a really fancy date. Somewhere with roses and candlelight, all that romantic mush. They’d practically die of shock.”

Andrew flopped down on the sofa beside him, sipping his scorching hot mocha. Neil offered him some peanuts and he stuffed a bunch in his mouth, mostly so he wouldn’t have to answer right away. The sharp, salty taste mixed with the sweetness coating his mouth, creating a sour, vinegary, chocolatey mess. He gagged.

“Those are disgusting,” he told Neil.

“What do you think about the date idea?” Neil asked, eating another fistful of nuts.

“Sure, whatever,” Andrew replied, trying to sound uncaring even though he knew exactly where he would take Neil for such an occasion. “Tonight?”

“Perfect,” Neil said. “Where should we-?”

“I’ll sort out the reservations,” Andrew said, rubbing at his sleepy eyes with his free hand and smearing salt and vinegar dust into them.

*

“Oh,” Neil said. The little sound was tinged with awe and made something swell in Andrew’s chest that felt akin to pride.

Renee had worked as a waitress at this place last year, and Andrew had often picked her up after her shift to drive her home. Sometimes he’d waited out in the parking lot, sometimes she’d made him sit at one of the tables and brought him some water and a complimentary bread basket, or, if her boss wasn’t around, a plate of whatever dish hadn’t been selling as well as they’d anticipated that night.

The restaurant was expensive, but not so much that Andrew couldn’t afford it just this once. It was just off the highway and somewhat secluded, surrounded by a copse of pine trees that stood guard outside the windows like benevolent spirits. Stepping inside was like passing over into a different world. The walls were painted blue and the booths were separated by aquariums taller than Andrew and filled with colourful fish, shrimp and little crabs. Plants waved lazily in the currents, looking glowy and neon green under the lights, and the water made the shadows ripple and sprawl across the walls.

“I didn’t think you’d know a place this fancy,” Neil murmured. “No offense.”

They were led to a corner booth and sat down. Neil skimmed his hands over the different sets of cutlery and the cloth napkins laid out on the table, then touched the gold edges of the menu like he was scared of breaking the leather spine if he opened it.

“Okay?” Andrew asked.

“Yeah,” Neil said, swallowing audibly. “I just, I haven’t been to a place like this in… since before.”

Over the years that they’d been roommates-- _friends_ \--Neil had slowly opened up to Andrew about his childhood. He’d told him enough that Andrew could fill in some of the gaps and make informed deductions, namely that his whole family had been involved in not-exactly-legal businesses, that both of his parents had been abusive though his father worse than his mother, and that his uncle had been a prime factor in getting Neil the hell out of there and helping him start a new life as soon as he was old enough to live on his own.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Andrew asked, feeling his smugness about picking the perfect restaurant fading rapidly.

“No,” Neil said, rallying. He cracked open the menu after all and shot him a brief, self-deprecating smile. “I’m just being silly. It’s beautiful here. I’ve never had lobster before, have you?”

“Yes,” Andrew replied, thinking of the rare couple of times Renee was able to pilfer some for him.

“It’s so expensive,” Neil went on, frowning when he read the price. “I’ll just get the crab ravioli.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Andrew told him, scanning the menu. “Get whatever you want.”

“Yeah, right,” Neil replied jokingly. “Like we can afford thirty dollar lobster on our shitty supermarket wages.”

“I can afford it,” Andrew told him warily. Since he only ever bought the occasional pack of cigarettes or blank notebook, and his diet consisted of an affordable range of penny candy, frozen pizzas, coffee and cup noodles, he’d been able to save up a little bit of money. He’d always hoped he might maybe--eventually--use it taking Neil out on an _actual_ date, but that was clearly never going to happen.

After bickering about it for a couple of minutes, Neil finally conceded and ordered the damn lobster. Andrew spontaneously went for a salad as he wasn’t sure if his appetite was coming or going. The waitress jotted down their order and left them to it. Andrew wasn’t drinking alcohol as he was driving, but the blood orange margarita the waitress had described as their cocktail special was suddenly sounding very appealing. He stuffed the thought away, steeled his stupid, _stupid_ nerves, and started chatting to Neil about the usual stuff: school, their friends, plans for the week.

“That reminds me--Dan was saying you have to show me the Harry Potter movies, as I’ve never seen them and apparently that’s a crime or something,” Neil said as their food showed up.

“I’ll download them when we get home,” Andrew said, looking down at his fancy salad with its fancy sourdough croutons and instantly looking forward to dessert.

“Look how nice this is,” Neil commented, gesturing to his lobster dish. “I have to take a picture of this.”

He pulled out his phone and took a couple of snaps of their meals.

“I suppose you want one of _us_ for your Instagram as well,” Andrew remarked. He’d meant for it to be a joke but it came out a bit sourer than he’d intended.

“Hmm?” Neil said, still flicking through the different filters. “Oh, if you’re cool with that? It’s fine though, I’m just gonna…”

He typed for a while with his tongue poking out between his teeth, then he turned the phone around so Andrew could read the caption of his lobster pic: _fancy date night with the boyfriend!!!,_ and some sappy tags that made Andrew’s stomach wriggle uncomfortably.

“You should eat it before it gets cold,” was all he managed to say.

He poked his fork at his croutons while Neil talked about his costume for the upcoming play and made some appreciative noises at the lobster. Neil offered to share it several times, but Andrew only stole a small bite and went back to his salad. He’d had a few ideas about a potential date like this, some time in the distant future, but now that it was actually happening--fake or not--Andrew found he just felt uncomfortable and itchily aware of all of his body parts, particularly his sweat glands.

“Do you want to get dessert?” Neil asked once their plates had been cleared. “Don’t look now, but the couple behind us just got a massive slab of tiramisu. God, I’m so full. I should have ordered a salad like you.”

Andrew promptly turned around to stare demonstratively at the couple behind them and Neil laughed.

“Share one?” Andrew suggested.

“If you insist,” Neil grinned.

The tiramisu really was enormous. Andrew tried to limit himself, because it was boozier than he’d expected and he still had to drive them home. Besides, after the last trip to Eden’s and how spectacularly he’d misjudged his own alcohol intake, he thought it was a good idea to tread lightly there for a while.

Especially considering where that mistake had landed him.

“Oh fuck, this is so good,” Neil groaned. He had a lick of cocoa powder on the corner of his mouth and Andrew imagined smudging it into a kiss and stuffed another spoonful of tiramisu into his mouth to numb the thought.

“Give me your phone,” he said. Neil shot him a curious look, then unlocked and tossed his phone across the table. Andrew clicked on the camera app and took a picture of Neil looking smug and cocoa-dusted, cream on his lip and a soft, happy flush to his cheeks.

He stared at it for a moment, then handed the phone back.

“For your Instagram,” he muttered.

Neil looked down at the photo, something like surprise softly illuminating his features, and then mumbled something incoherent and appreciative before uploading it. He locked his phone and slid it back in his pocket.

“You know, if this were a real date, I wouldn’t be on my phone so much,” Neil said emphatically. “Promise.”

“You sure?” Andrew asked, letting his spoon sink through the booze-drenched layers of the tiramisu. “Maybe that’s why none of your dates worked out. You’d complain to me that they were creepy or obnoxious or had various personality flaws but in reality, you just couldn’t put down your phone.”

“Ha ha,” Neil replied dryly, wiping his mouth with a fresh napkin. When Andrew held his gaze, he started laughing in earnest. He kept going until tears beaded in the corners of his eyes.

“What?” Andrew asked, his eyebrow twitching upwards questioningly.

“Nothing. You-” Neil managed through his laughter. “You just reminded me how awful they all were. They really were disastrous, right?”

“Like the guy who took you to the movies, didn’t speak to you at all before or after, and demanded a full-on explanation for why you were calling things off with him when you didn’t message the next day?” Andrew recalled, smirking a little.

“Or that girl who told me I needed a drink to loosen up,” Neil said, placing his palms flat against the table to steady himself. “And when I said no, just up and left?”

“The one that got away, you mean?” Andrew replied, eating the last of the tiramisu. “How could I forget?”

Talking about something familiar, that they’d joked about often, made the monsters clawing underneath Andrew’s skin curl up and settle like sleeping kittens. They sat there, talking about the dates, and then about funny things that had happened at the supermarket or at school, and then about nothing at all, for ages after the waitress cleared their plate away.

When Neil eventually got up to use the bathroom, Andrew went over to settle the bill.

“Ready to go?” Neil asked when he returned and saw Andrew was already zipping up his riding leather.

“Yeah,” Andrew replied.

“We need to pay-” Neil said, reaching for his messenger bag and looking over at the waitress.

“I got it,” Andrew told him, standing.

“But-” Neil protested, “I should pay for some of it. I-”

“Nope.”

“Andrew. This whole dating thing was my idea. It’s only fair that I-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Andrew interrupted him, wishing he’d just drop it. “It’s done.”

“Okay,” Neil muttered unsurely. “I just- I don’t feel like I deserve this.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, suddenly wondering if actually spilling his deepest secrets would be less painful than having this never-ending conversation. “Just let me treat you.”

“Thanks,” Neil replied eventually, looking like a startled fawn for a heartbeat or two before visibly regrouping and offering Andrew a breezy smile. “Next one will be one me, then. What do you want to do now?”

“Are you tired?” Andrew asked.

“Not really,” Neil answered, following Andrew out of the restaurant and into the floodlit lot. Pale blue light wound around the copse and up to the parked vehicles, a peppermint mist. “Kind of the opposite. Really wired.”

Andrew motioned for him to get on the bike. Neil’s hands settling at his hips was like a dislodged puzzle piece sliding back into place, and Andrew revved the motor and sped down the almost empty highway until Neil was whooping and laughing behind him, not even a little bit fazed by their speed. Andrew took the long way home and stopped outside a gas station to pick up some snacks and cigarettes. When he came back, Neil had taken off his helmet and was leaning against the bike, looking at the stars. His cheeks were flushed and his hair spiky and askew, and the neon light of the gas station buzzed across his skin like static.

“Hey,” Neil said. “Check out these stars.”

He shuffled a little to the side, inviting Andrew to lean next to him. Andrew would have been content to just watch Neil instead, but he complied and swung his gaze at the dark, glittering sky.

He startled when Neil’s elbow nudged him.

“Thanks for tonight,” Neil murmured. “I had a great time.”

“Guess that means you’re not a lost cause after all,” Andrew said. Neil sighed and shifted his weight, so that they were pressed together from wrist to elbow.

“I don’t know. I just never felt comfortable like this on a date before. I feel like half of those dates were more pretend than this one was.”

Andrew looked back at the ground and swallowed down the bitter reminder.

“Let’s go,” he ground out, putting his helmet back on. “We still have eight Harry Potter movies to get through.”

In the end, they didn’t even make it all the way through the first one.

Like a toddler, Neil went from bouncy excitement to flat-out yawning and nodding off in the space of twenty minutes. His head kept lolling onto Andrew’s shoulder, and after the third time pinching him awake Andrew just left him there and tried to focus on the movie instead. Neil watched through squinty eyes as Harry found the Mirror of Erised, fingers absently fretting at Andrew’s sleeve, probably without realising it.

“So this mirror,” he mumbled when Andrew paused the movie, and suppressed another yawn. “It shows like, your greatest desires?”

“Mm,” Andrew made.

“That’s dumb,” Neil scoffed. His words were starting to slur.

“Mm,” Andrew replied.

“What do you think you’d see?” Neil asked, one of his fingers still hooked into Andrew’s sleeve.

“Nothing,” Andrew said at once. Bee would punish him with one of her special Looks for this cop-out answer, but Bee wasn’t here tonight and Andrew was too tired to care.

“I think,” Neil murmured slowly, eyes falling closed, “I’d just see this. Us. You know?”

His breathing evened out. Andrew looked down at his sleeping form, nestled against his side even though more than half the sofa was at his disposal, and tugged a formerly tidy curl out from behind his ear just to be contrary.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we chill on tumblr @ [annawrites (moonix)](http://annawrites.tumblr.com) & [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com) respectively 
> 
> 8)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Andrew just cannot catch a break, more at 7.

The next day, Andrew was given a fresh assignment in class. They’d been talking about perspective, and were tasked with telling a well-known story from a different point of view. He yawned as he jotted down the details. He hadn’t slept well. He’d drifted off on the sofa next to Neil and had woken up at about four in the morning with a sore neck. After waking Neil enough to steer him in the direction of his bed, he’d struggled trying to drift off again, his mind dwelling on a seemingly endless list of questions starting with  _ what am I doing? _ and ending with a series of pointless  _ what ifs? _

He was hoping Bee could help him figure it out. As his class came to an end, he checked the time on his phone. He had around fifteen minutes to kill until their appointment and decided he would pick up a couple of pastries from the nearest café on campus. 

It was just his luck he was waylaid by Nicky on his way out of the lecture theatre.

“Check this out,” Nicky said, tilting his phone screen at Andrew as he fell into step with him. Andrew coolly regarded the pictures Nicky was scrolling through: a shiny, apple-red lobster, a somewhat bashful Neil with a blob of mascarpone on his upper lip and finally, a velvety sky sequinned with bright stars. 

“This happened literally yesterday. What about it?” Andrew asked, bored. The dating ruse was a thousand times more exhausting when Neil wasn’t around and his family were bothering him.

“He’s gone Instagram-mad, that’s what,” Nicky said, as if Andrew were being deliberately obtuse. “Look at those  _ hashtags _ . Boyfriend goals? Baes forever? He must really, really like you.”

Andrew frowned and didn’t respond.

“Are you meeting him just now?” Nicky went on. 

“No,” Andrew replied, ducking into the café. “I have an appointment with Bee.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Nicky said, joining him in the queue. “So, did I ever tell you I was really happy for you guys?”

“Only in around five thousand different messages,” Andrew mumbled. 

“Well, I am,” Nicky continued proudly. “You guys are so good for each other. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, to be honest. But now I’m your biggest fan!”

“Uh huh,” Andrew said, only because it seemed like Nicky was waiting for some kind of reply.

“So, I want to apologise for being an ignorant, insensitive dick,” Nicky told him, grinning apologetically. “Come to Eden’s with me on Friday? I’ll buy you guys your first round of drinks.”

“Wow,” Andrew deadpanned. “One round? Don’t push the boat out, Nicky.”

“Take it or leave it,” Nicky sang. “And, Andrew?”

“What.”

“I’m really,  _ really  _ happy for you guys.”

Andrew skilfully evaded Nicky’s attempted back pat, like a cat moving just out of reach of a petting hand. Nicky laughed and proceeded to flirt with the barista, which delayed their orders significantly and nearly made Andrew late for his appointment.

God damn it. He really needed to find a different café to satisfy his lunch cravings, he was getting too predictable.

“Andrew,” Bee greeted him, waving him inside with a smile. “Good to see you.”

“Custard or cinnamon apple?” Andrew asked her and held up the bag of pastries. Bee accepted the cinnamon apple and put it away for later, handing Andrew a plate for his own so he wouldn’t get crumbs over her immaculate sofa. Andrew squashed the familiar, petty urge to ignore the plate and make as much of a mess as he could. It was no fun knowing he wouldn’t get a reaction out of her, and the days where he wanted to trash her office and put his hands around her neck and squeeze were long since past.

How far they’d come, he thought wryly as he settled into his usual seat.

“How have you been?” Bee asked him, sitting in the armchair opposite him with her clipboard. She’d changed the centrepiece on her table. Where there had been a little Mason jar with wildflowers last time Andrew had been here, there was now a glazed blue clay bowl filled with water and swimming beeswax candles.

“I fucked up,” Andrew blurted out after a long moment of contemplation. He tapped one of the candles and it bobbed around the bowl, bumping into the others.

“How so?”

He rubbed his wet fingertips together and sat back, looking down at his half-eaten pastry. Some bits of the flaky dough had sneaked past the periphery of the plate after all and he picked them up and put them back.

“Neil and I are fake dating,” Andrew said, realising how stupid it must sound, out loud, to an actual functioning adult.

“Can you elaborate on that?” Bee responded without batting an eyelid. Damn, she was good.

“We’ve agreed to pretend we’re dating,” Andrew explained slowly, “to mess with our friends.”

“Would they find the idea,” she paused, as if looking for the right word, “entertaining?”

“You mean would they think it’s completely impossible?” He asked darkly. “Pretty much.”

“You’re pretending you’re in a relationship with your roommate, who’ve you’ve alluded to having feelings for,” Bee said, steepling her fingers. “Is that not complicated?”

“Oh, you can’t imagine,” Andrew drawled. He flashed his teeth at her. “It’s a bit of a headfuck.”

“Why did you agree?” Bee asked. 

“Because I was hungover,” Andrew replied, “and because his friends are assholes.”

He wanted to add  _ because I’m a dumbass, and because Neil asked _ , but didn’t.

“Alright,” Bee said. “Let’s start unpacking.”

Andrew sighed and crammed the last of his pastry in his mouth. It would be a long, gruelling session, and he’d no doubt need the fuel.

*

Andrew was exhausted.

After the emotionally draining session with Bee, he’d done some of his assignments in a daze and quickly shovelled down some microwave mac and cheese before his shift at the store. It was now three in the morning and he was dead on his feet, but for some reason he couldn’t sleep.

He sat in the living room with his bare feet on the coffee table and a half-eaten tub of French vanilla ice-cream cradled loosely in his hands. His palms were damp from the condensation and the lights were off, the TV on. He was watching shitty music videos with the sound off, which was a new kind of low, but Andrew couldn’t bring himself to sit up and reach for the remote. Besides, he didn’t want to wake Neil.

His attempts proved futile when Neil’s bedroom door snicked open and Neil padded out in a t-shirt and boxers. He yawned, spotted Andrew on the couch and made a beeline for him.

They didn’t speak. Neil grabbed one of the cushions and patted it into place against Andrew’s thigh before curling up on his side. Andrew felt him take a deep breath, in and out. The ice-cream was slowly melting in his hands. Neil’s eyes were drooping, but he didn’t let them fall closed all the way.

Andrew opened his mouth to tell him about Nicky, but found he couldn’t get enough breath behind the words. Sleep was slurring the edges of his thoughts. It was probably a bad idea to fall asleep on the sofa again, but Neil’s weight against his leg was weirdly grounding, and it was so easy to get lost in the strange, mute worlds of the silent music videos on screen.

He looked down at the loose curl of Neil’s body beside him, his pointy edges and soft corners, the knobbly trail of his spine from his neck to his collar and the moles dotted along his arm. His t-shirt had rucked up a bit, exposing a scar on his hipbone. He was usually very careful about keeping his torso covered around other people, but he’d started to be a little less mindful of what was visible where when it was just him and Andrew.

Neil sighed, one hand twitching in the fabric of the cushion.

“Idiot,” Andrew murmured and poked him. “Go to bed.”

“Too far away,” Neil mumbled.

“I’ll carry you like a little baby if you don’t,” Andrew threatened.

“Dare you,” Neil hummed, a smile flickering at the edge of his mouth like a moth searching for light.

Andrew poked him again, but he refused to move.

“I warned you,” he said.

Neil curled up tighter and burrowed his nose in the cushion. Andrew finally found the strength to sit up and drop the tub of ice-cream on the table. From there it wasn’t so hard anymore to get up, and he slipped his arms under Neil’s lithe, compact body while he was at it, lifting him up.

Neil muffled a laugh in Andrew’s shoulder and held very still as Andrew hauled him back to his bed, where he dropped him unceremoniously into the nest of ruffled sheets.

“Sexy,” Neil teased, looking at him out of one almond-sliver eye. “My boyfriend just carried me to bed. That’s dreamy as fuck.”

“Shut up and sleep,” Andrew told him. He left Neil quietly laughing himself to sleep, and only detoured back to the living room to switch off the TV and throw away the melted ice-cream before going to bed himself.

_ Be careful with your heart _ , Bee had told him. Andrew had scoffed at her, but he was starting to think there might be something to her advice.

“Idiot,” he whispered into the darkness, though he wasn’t sure if he meant Neil or himself.

*

The sound of the apartment door clicking shut woke Andrew from shadowy, nondescript dreams. Though Neil tried to be quiet whenever he left early for an all-day rehearsal, Andrew was still a light sleeper. He sat up in bed, a heavy grogginess treading through him like sludge. The week had been a weird one so far, and Bee’s words had wormed their way into his brain. He hadn’t been able to shake off their aftereffect. Not for the first time, he wondered if what he and Neil were doing was a very bad idea. He’d thought playing at intimacy might quell his long-held crush for good. What he didn’t want to admit, not even to himself, was that it might actually be making things worse. 

Rather than extinguishing the flame, he was feeding it.

He had class in two hours, so he distracted himself by showering, making some breakfast, and slowly getting dressed. He walked to class under a sky drained of colour. It had faded to a staticky white like a sheet someone had washed too many times. He got to campus too early and by that time, it had started to drizzle. He took shelter in a graffitied underpass and smoked two cigarettes one after the other to kill some time. The scarlet-orange glow of the lit tip dancing between his fingers seemed to him the most colourful thing he’d seen all day. 

Andrew struggled to pay attention in class. Instead he was drawn to the raindrops hitting the window and chasing each other down the glassy pane. The hour sped by as if part of a movie montage and then it was lunch. 

He was just staring at his sandwich when Neil plopped a tray down across from him and nimbly slid onto the bench. 

“I only get like, a half hour today, because rehearsal is a complete shitshow,” he complained in lieu of a hello. “If this play actually comes together it’ll be a miracle.”

Andrew swallowed a mouthful of his sandwich; the bread was stale and tasteless. 

“Anyway,” Neil went on, forcibly brightening in that way he did when he felt he was talking about himself too much. “How’s your morning been?”

“Fine,” Andrew said. He hadn’t noticed he’d been tensing his jaw and he tried to relax it. “Boring.”

“Okay,” Neil said, tilting his head to the side slightly. “What’s new with you? We never caught up yesterday.”

Andrew thought of carrying Neil to bed the night before and he could almost feel a tickle of warm breath against his shoulder. He pushed the memory aside and found a more neutral topic to talk about. 

“Nicky said he’d buy us a round of drinks if we go to Eden’s this Friday,” he said. “Interested?”

Neil blinked and took his time thinking about it. Their first trip to Eden’s hadn’t exactly been a riot of laughter and it wasn’t really Neil’s scene to begin with. Andrew wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t really care about a repeat visit. 

“Sure,” Neil said eventually. “Do you think we could invite the others, though?”

“Others?” Andrew repeated, feigning ignorance.

“You know, Dan and her lot,” Neil replied, rolling his eyes. “Matt and Allison and Renee?”

“Oh,” Andrew mused, as if he’d forgotten their existence. “Them.”

“You like Renee,” Neil pointed out. 

Andrew didn’t deny it. 

“Bring them if you want,” he said with a shrug. 

“We haven’t hung out in one big group since this thing started,” Neil went on, raising his eyebrows mischievously. “That’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

Fun was a concept Andrew didn’t relate to right now, but he shrugged again and broke another piece off his sandwich just to stare at it.

“Hey,” Neil said. “You seem spacey. Everything okay?”

Andrew chewed his bite slowly, then forced himself to say, “Weird day.”

“Regular weird day or brain weird day?” Neil asked.

“Both,” Andrew guessed, already exhausted from talking about it, though he knew Bee would make him do the same.

“Okay,” Neil said. “Can I help?”

Andrew shook his head, then reconsidered.

“Maybe later,” he finally conceded. He wasn’t in the best headspace to make decisions right now, he could recognise as much, but he had some vague ideas about things that could help, like sparring with Renee, calling Bee, going for a drive, having the apartment to himself tonight, reorganising his bookshelves. He had a long list of potentially helpful things that he’d painstakingly put together with Bee’s help over the years. The tricky bit was figuring out which action today’s mood required, but he didn’t have to choose one right away.

“Alright,” Neil said around the last mouthful of his lunch. “I’ll keep my phone on me, just in case. Call me whenever.”

Andrew’s first impulse was to roll his eyes and tell him not to bother--he was having a bad day, not a suicidal one--but he picked at his food instead and said nothing. Neil grabbed his pudding cup and dropped it on Andrew’s tray before getting up.

“I gotta go back. I’ll text you though, and if you don’t answer I’ll sic Renee on you.”

Andrew did roll his eyes at that, and Neil shot him a quick smile and a salute before leaving.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Andrew went to the library after his last class and wandered the aisles for a while, trailing his fingers along the spines of the books and rearranging a few that had been sorted the wrong way. He bought a cinnamon soy latte with the intention of giving it to Neil, then remembered Neil’s practice was running late tonight. In the end, he found himself outside Aaron’s dorm with the rapidly cooling latte in his hand, holding it out like an offering when Aaron opened the door.

“Andrew? What’s up? Did you text?”

Aaron stepped aside to let him in and squinted at his phone. Judging by the state of his hair and the paint-splattered sweatpants and oversized t-shirt he wore, he’d been painting all day. Andrew walked around the dorm, touching things and straightening edges, opening cupboards and closing them again. There was a big blue teapot in one of the kitchen cupboards that belonged to one of Aaron’s roommates. He picked a tin of spiced apple tea from the shelf and carefully scooped some into a strainer, boiled water and poured it over the tea, then went on the hunt for cups and the jar of honey Aaron kept around.

“What are you doing?” Aaron asked from the doorway. Andrew flicked a glance at him, then at the used ramen bowl in the sink. He’d probably not eaten a proper meal today. There were some vegetables in the fridge on the verge of expiring, so he lined them up on the counter by length and took out a pan and the family-size bag of rice that resided under the sink. Spices were a little hard to come by in Aaron’s dorm, but there was always a big bottle of soy sauce or two, and Andrew had left a can of pineapples last time he’d been here, those would do.

“Andrew.”

He looked up and flinched when he realised that Aaron was standing right beside him and he hadn’t noticed him walking over. The can dropped from his hand and rolled away, hitting the wall with a clang.

“Dude,” Aaron said quietly. “Just… slow down for a moment. Let’s sit and have some of that tea before we think about dinner, okay?”

Andrew stared at him a moment. Aaron was fretting at his side with that careful, cotton-wool look in his eyes that said he didn’t know how to piece together the broken pieces of whatever had shattered but that he would try anyway. It was the last thing Andrew needed, so he looked away. Andrew didn’t massively believe in the psychic twin bullshit that had been peddled throughout time, but Aaron got the message and wandered into the lounge with the steaming pot of tea. Abandoning the neat rainbow of veggies lined up on the countertop, Andrew followed.

On the table, two chipped teacups sat on identical, gilded saucers. They were hand-me-downs from Katelyn; she used to work in this old-fashioned tea shop and got first dibs on the more worn-out cups and saucers. Andrew frowned at the dinky things as Aaron poured the tea into them. He did it very carefully so that it wouldn’t splash, and Andrew didn’t have the energy to point out that was what the saucers were  _ for _ . 

Andrew took the cup that was offered to him but settled it on the arm of his chair, choosing to swipe Aaron’s Nintendo DS from the table and boot it up rather than sip at his tea in silence. Aaron let out a laboured sigh but left him to it. 

Andrew jabbed at the buttons, watching the little animal character run around in circles and listening to the repetitive, tinny drone of the video game soundtrack. His mind emptied, clouding over like a rain-heavy sky. He only jerked back to reality when Aaron’s phone let out a shrill wail. Aaron settled his now-empty teacup on the table with a  _ clink _ and answered it. The person on the other end was obviously not letting him get a word in edgewise, as he kept opening his mouth to answer before being cut off.

“Calm down- he’s-  _ yes _ . Yes, he’s here,” Aaron managed to say eventually, and at once, Andrew felt like there was something heavy pressing down on his chest. He put the console aside and plucked his phone from his pocket; he hadn’t looked at it all afternoon and there were several messages and missed calls from Neil. He didn’t even have a chance to berate himself for fucking up before Aaron rounded on him.

“What is this?” Aaron asked, tossing his phone on the couch. “Are you guys in a fight? You can’t just ignore him, you know.”

“Why not?” Andrew countered. 

“Because that’s not how relationships work,” Aaron told him.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Are you a self-help book? Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Andrew.” Aaron’s expression crumpled. He looked defeated.

“I don’t care how relationships ‘work’,” Andrew said blandly, getting to his feet. 

When Aaron opened his mouth to argue, Andrew thought about cutting him off with the one thing that would really shut him up: the truth. That they weren’t actually  _ in _ a relationship and never had been. 

“We aren’t in a fight,” he said instead. “I just wanted some tea.”

“But you didn’t even drink it,” Aaron murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. Andrew pointedly tossed back the cold tea in his cup, then went into the kitchen to make that dinner he’d planned before the vegetables gave up all semblance of goodwill.

Half an hour later, the bell rang and Aaron got up to answer it. Andrew continued to stir the rice--three times counterclockwise, twice clockwise, rinse, repeat. It was repetitive and soothing and kept his mind busy.

“Your boyfriend’s here,” Aaron announced blandly before retreating back to the TV. Andrew kept stirring, though he felt the hair at the back of his neck prickle as Neil entered the kitchen behind him. There were voices in the living room and Andrew realised that Neil had brought Renee as back-up, like he’d threatened.

“You couldn’t have checked your phone once?” Neil said. “Sent me something--a yes or no, some dumb emoji, anything?”

“I forgot,” Andrew muttered.

“Bullshit,” Neil snorted. “You never forget anything.”

Andrew lost track of how many times he’d stirred counterclockwise and sighed, abandoning the pursuit. He never could keep his head when Neil was around.

“Did you drive here?” Neil asked.

“No. I walked.”

“Good,” Neil said. “Renee’s going to drive us home. After dinner. I was worried.”

“I,” Andrew said, faltering. “I didn’t think.”

“Clearly,” Neil sighed, softening already. “What are you making? Smells delicious.”

“Jambalaya.”

“Isn’t that with beans?”

Andrew pointed a spoon at him in warning and Neil held up his hands, grinning.

“Right, right. Don’t criticise the cook if you want to eat. I got it. Want me to set the table?”

And just like this it was achingly domestic again. They were joined by one of Aaron’s roommates, all five of them clustered around the coffee table because there wasn’t enough space in the kitchen, and Renee made polite conversation with everyone while Aaron occasionally offered monosyllables and Neil shoveled food in his mouth like a starving man. He always did after intense rehearsals.

Andrew cut his vegetables into tiny chunks as he listened to Neil excitedly chatter about the upcoming show. Renee was now looking at Andrew with a soft expression on her face that anyone else in the group would interpret as unremarkable. Knowing better, it just reminded Andrew that he’d have to talk to her eventually. He shot her a look that said as much and turned his attention back to Neil.

“I’m going to reserve everyone a ticket for opening night,” Neil said, sounding unsure. “Just because- well, just in case, right?”

“Allison and I actually reserved some already,” Renee said, pushing the last of her rice onto her spoon without spilling a single grain. “For Dan and Matt, too.”

“Really?” Neil said, immediately perking up. His eyes lit up like a string of Christmas lights and Andrew’s heart felt like a pin cushion that had been prodded one too many times. 

“I’ll put one aside for you, okay?” Neil went on, nudging Andrew with his elbow. “And Aaron and Nicky, too.”

“Katelyn?” Aaron asked hopefully, his gaze flitting to Andrew for just a second as if to check that was okay. It was an old habit of his and Andrew rolled his eyes in response. 

“Sure,” Neil said. He paused before continuing. “Wow. So many people.”

“It will be fun to go to the theatre together,” Renee said, gathering the empty plates together. 

“Say that again once we’ve gotten through a trip to Eden’s,” Aaron told her, taking the stack of plates out of her hands and making his way over to the kitchen.

Renee just chuckled lightly and Andrew turned to look at Neil. He was distracted, staring at nothing with this slightly starstruck look on his face as if he couldn’t believe his luck that they were all coming to watch him. His cheeks were flushed and glowing and when he caught Andrew looking, he grinned.

Andrew couldn’t help it; he felt the fleshy red of his heart being poked by yet another pin.

*

By the time they left, it was late, and the sky was blotted with black. Above them, the moon was a swollen pearl sewn into a scrap of dark velvet. It hadn’t been cold earlier in the day, but now Andrew’s fingers ached with numbness. His riding gloves were back at the dorm so he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Neil and Renee wandered alongside him. It was peaceful--silent but for the soft cooing of an owl somewhere in the distance.  

They made it to the car, the doors unlocking with a  _ pop _ . 

“You want the front?” Neil asked Andrew.

For a second, Andrew contemplated sitting in the back with Neil. He could imagine upturning his palm in the space between them and holding hands in the dark as the street lights dimmed and brightened, over and over, until they reached home. It was almost too palpable a dream, and he strode over to the passenger side door to slide in next to Renee. 

She sent him another one of her questioning looks and he turned away, fixing his eyes on the road.

The drive wasn’t long, and Andrew remained in the car as Neil got out.

“Go,” he told Neil. “I won’t be long.”

He watched as Neil disappeared inside the building and tapped his fingers against the open window, then took out a strip of gum and stuck it in his mouth. Renee let him be, knowing he sometimes needed time to collect his thoughts.

“It’s not real,” was what finally tumbled out of Andrew’s mouth. He wiped his thumb over his lips, back and forth, back and forth. Neil was real, but he was also a pipedream. If Andrew believed in regret, he’d be steeped in it right about now.

“What do you mean?” Renee prompted.

“We made a deal,” Andrew said tiredly. “To fake date each other, so people would stop bugging Neil about it, and to mess with everyone.”

“Ah,” Renee said. “But what you feel for him is not fake, so now it’s messing with you instead.”

Instead of denying it, Andrew just nodded and fiddled with the edges of his armbands. They were starting to become threadbare, he would have to replace them soon.

“Maybe you should tell him,” Renee suggested softly, her voice a firefly glow in the darkness.

“And what would be the point of that,” Andrew sneered.

“He cares about you,” Renee pointed out. “A lot. Even if he doesn’t have any romantic feelings, at least it would be out in the open and you could move on. Neil won’t abandon you just because you happen to be in love with him, Andrew.”

Andrew snorted at that and spit his gum out into the night.

“I think,” Renee said, the ghost of a smile denting the corner of her mouth like a fingernail, “that you are wallowing.”

“Fuck off,” Andrew said, and Renee laughed.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to wallow. But life goes on, you know. You can get through this, just like you got through everything else. I have faith in you.”

“Thanks,” Andrew quipped sarcastically, but something in his chest felt a little lighter, maybe. He definitely wasn’t going to tell Neil--all that would achieve was complicating their friendship, a friendship Andrew appreciated and didn’t want to lose--but he was going to suggest fake-breaking up soon, so the whole thing would be done and he could move on like Renee said.

“You’re welcome,” Renee grinned. “Now get some sleep, we’re sparring tomorrow so you will need it.”

He made a show of slamming the door behind him as he left, but lingered a second longer on the sidewalk to shoot Renee a lazy wave goodbye. 

Andrew trudged back to the dormitory expecting Neil to already be in bed. When he clicked the door closed, however, Neil was sitting cross-legged on the floor in his pyjama shorts, his knee bouncing up-and-down. Andrew didn’t understand how he still had so much energy after such a long day. Neil was watching an old sitcom; canned laughter tumbled around the room like an echo. Andrew sunk into the couch cushions and swivelled around so he could lie on his side.

“This is funny,” Neil remarked, even though he hadn’t laughed once. 

Andrew hummed in response and Neil started rummaging through his bag. He pulled out an old headband and his rolled-up script. He pushed his hair out of his face with the former and then started studying his lines. They sat like that a while: Neil reading and Andrew shuffling around on the couch trying to find a comfortable position. 

“Oh,” Neil said eventually. A leaf of paper fluttered out from between the pages of his script and he held it up between his fingers. “How did this get in there?”

Andrew couldn’t stop glaring at the stupid people in the stupid sitcom getting themselves into increasingly stupid situations so he didn’t reply.

“This is the Groupon Allison bought me  _ months  _ ago,” Neil went on, sounding guilty that he’d forgotten it. “It expires soon. Look.”

Neil started wiggling it around in front of Andrew’s face to get his attention, so Andrew had no choice but to look at the crinkled coupon. It was for a stay in a fancy hotel up north--one of those remote, romantic-type places that made Andrew want to vomit--and it expired that very weekend. Andrew didn’t need to be a genius to figure out what was going to come out of Neil’s mouth next.

“We should go.”

“As part of your scheme?” Andrew asked, looking straight ahead at the TV. “Or as roommates?”

“As  _ friends _ ,” Neil replied huffily, as if Andrew were being deliberately difficult. “But there could definitely be some scheming if you’re interested.”

It was dangerous to agree to an overnight stay, especially after the day he’d just had, but it was also probably the perfect place to bring up their ‘break up’. Neil was having entirely too much fun messing with his friends. Away from campus, they wouldn’t be pretending at intimacy for an audience, so it would be easier to talk about how they were going to do it. 

That, and it was time. Things were obviously starting to blur at the edges a bit for Andrew. Getting out of town just the two of them--as just-friends, and nothing more--would be like pushing a reset button. They’d put an end to things, and everything would go back to normal.

“We’ll go,” he said, staring hard at some overly-colourful commercial so he wouldn’t have to look at Neil beaming at him. 

And that was it settled. One night at Eden’s Twilight and a couple more out in the countryside and they’d be back to being just-friends. Sure, Neil would want to do some whole over-the-top heartbreak charade for a day or two, but then they could come clean. It would be all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi we are [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com/) and [annawrites](http://annawrites.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and we love tea, kudos and comments xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> backstreet's back, alright! put on your dancing shoes and buckle up, ppl. it's ch. 8. enjoy xoxo

Friday came sooner than Andrew was ready for. Neil disappeared to Allison’s after rehearsal and didn’t even seek Andrew out for outfit advice. He texted as Andrew was pacing the parking lot outside to say that Allison was giving him a ride and not to wait for him. Andrew felt unbalanced without him and pointedly ignored the curious looks and subtle questions he was getting from Nicky, Kevin and Aaron on the way to Eden’s.

“He probably wants to surprise you,” Nicky leaned in to whisper as they got out of the car. “You know, with a nice outfit and stuff.”

He winked and sauntered off to where Aaron was talking to the bouncers, and Andrew was left with Kevin as they waited for Nicky to come back with the parking pass.

“You know,” Kevin said, apparently unable to enjoy the few minutes of silence they had left before the noise and chaos of Eden’s. “I didn’t think you two would work, but I can kind of see it now. Neil’s been… less difficult at rehearsal, lately.”

“What a compliment from the great Kevin Day,” Andrew scoffed and took out a cigarette. This was their second trip to Eden’s where slipping into the back with Roland wasn’t an option, and he felt jittery and irritated at the prospect of sitting and watching Neil dance with other people all night.

Kevin seemed to war with himself over something, then drew himself up to his full height and said: “If you hurt him-”

Andrew couldn’t help coughing out a laugh with the smoke of his cigarette.

“You’ll what? Take the stick out of your ass and beat me with it?”

Kevin scowled.

“Just- don’t,” he said, hands clenched at his sides. “He’s my only friend.”

“Well, that’s just pathetic,” Andrew said and aimed a stream of smoke at his face. He spotted Nicky coming back with the parking pass and ground the cigarette out under his heel. “Let’s go.”

The others weren’t there yet. By the time they were able to snag a table in one of the booths on the first floor gallery, Nicky was back and Aaron had disappeared to find Katelyn and her dancer friends. Andrew procured the first round of drinks and sank into the low black leather couch, cradling a glass of whisky. Renee found them next, trailing Matt and Dan in her wake, but there was still no sign of Allison and Neil.

“They’re on their way,” Renee informed him, perching on the couch next to him. “Last I heard they were getting ready to leave.”

“Getting ready to leave means it’ll take at least another hour in Allison-speak,” Dan grinned. “She’s probably still doing her hair.”

“Right?” Nicky joined in cheerfully. “She’s even worse than-”

He trailed off, his expression shifting slightly. Andrew turned to follow Nicky’s gaze, wondering what had caught his cousin’s attention and had subsequently stunned him into silence.

Neil and Allison were walking toward them. Allison was dressed from head-to-toe in pink chiffon, her hair piled in a messy bun and adorned with small silvery trinkets. Next to her, though, Neil was all in white. Andrew’s immediate instinct was to hate it. It was the complete opposite of everything he’d ever picked out for Neil. He thought Neil looked good in black, dusty grey, dark red at a push.

The white shirt he was wearing was made of some sheer material; a black crop-top poked out from underneath, slashing across his shoulders and exposing his collarbone--which Allison had obviously dusted with highlighter powder. On top of that, she’d dressed him in this long and floaty waistcoat which draped almost to his knees. The jeans were honestly the most ridiculous part. The white denim was scored with deliberate rips that started at the top of Neil’s thigh and ended just above his ankles. Black socks peeked out of clean, white platform sneakers and his hair was pushed up into a messy quiff. Andrew briefly wondered what kind of sickeningly expensive product Allison had used to make it _do that_ and if he could afford it.

She hadn’t stopped at his collarbone with the highlighter either. It was dancing across his cheekbones, making them seem more defined in the alternating shadows and strobe lights of the club. Finally, she’d rimmed his eyes with smudged, gunmetal grey eyeliner.

Andrew really hated everything about the entire outfit.

What he hated more was the almost-embarrassed smile Neil offered him when their eyes finally locked.

“Stop gaping,” he told Nicky as he tore his gaze away from Neil.

Everyone heard this, of course, and turned to look at their approaching friends.

“Holy shit,” Kevin muttered, a comment Andrew wasn’t sure was caused by Reynolds looking like she owned the entire building or Neil looking, well, like that.

“Hey,” Neil said as he reached the table.

“You’re lucky there’s not a blacklight in here,” Aaron said. “You’d light up like a fucking glowstick-”

“I think it looks amazing,” Nicky babbled, cutting him off.

Everyone else rushed to get their compliments in as Allison settled at Andrew’s side.

“You’re welcome,” she said, shooting him a smug wink. “The waistcoat is McQueen, by the way.”

Andrew had nothing to say to that.

He was still a little dazed when everyone finished their first round of drinks and started to file off to the dancefloor. Nicky waggled his eyebrows at him in passing and Neil shot him a shy little look, playing with the straw in Allison’s abandoned cocktail. Andrew looked down at the rips in his jeans and all the straps and strategic glimpses of skin, somehow more than Neil ever showed even though he was still appropriately covered. Not a single scar was visible through it all, and Andrew wondered how long Allison had spent arranging it all and how long it would take to get him out of it again and whether or not Neil would need help with that later.

Fuck.

He blinked his eyes away from the sight and squeezed his hand around the packet of cigarettes in his pocket to ground himself. Even if he could have gone to the back room with Roland tonight, he suspected it wouldn’t have cured him of the desire niggling away at his insides like a disease.

Neil drained his soda and leaned close to speak to him over the music. Andrew caught the subtle hint of a new scent on him, something understated and expensive, probably Allison’s doing as well. Neil didn’t like strong scents and didn’t usually bother with any, but this particular one suited him well. It was intoxicating, and Andrew bit his lip to stop himself from inhaling deeply.

“So, do you like the outfit?”

Andrew wanted to laugh. He was basically sitting there with drool on his chin, rock hard in his jeans, biting his lip to a bloody pulp to keep from reaching out and running his fingers all over Neil’s outfit. And under it. Oh, he wanted to, so badly it hurt.

“Dance with me,” was what spilled out of his mouth instead. Neil’s face mirrored his own surprise for a moment, then his mouth dipped into a smile, splashing a dimple onto his cheek.

“Okay, yeah. Let’s dance.”

Andrew signalled for Kevin to stay put and mind the table and got up to follow Neil down the stairs. He led the way onto the edge of the dancefloor to a slightly less crowded corner and turned around to face Andrew, backlit by a muted rainbow of strobe lighting. He looked ethereal, unreal. Andrew stepped closer to him and held his hands up either side of his hips in question. Neil tugged them down and moulded himself perfectly into his grip, the fabric of his shirt warm and slightly sweat-damp under Andrew’s fingers. The sensation made him real again; just a boy on a dancefloor, unsure what to do.

Andrew started to press and nudge Neil’s hips into a tentative rhythm, pulling him closer until they were almost touching but not quite. He could feel Neil’s hot breath on his face, watch his sweat mix with the shimmery highlighter powder on his collarbone. Following Neil’s movements was instinctual, natural. Andrew let go of his waist and tapped his own shoulder to signal that Neil could touch him there. Neil replied with a grin, teeth flashing white, and slowly wound his fingers in the fabric of Andrew’s shirt like he wasn’t planning on ever letting go again.

They were so close. So damn close. All Andrew had to do was lean forward the littlest amount and they’d be kissing.

The beat changed and Neil laughed along, throwing back his head and bopping on his feet like an overexcited child. Andrew moved backwards, nearly tripping on his own feet, and stood dumbly in the middle of the writhing crowd, too mesmerised by Neil finding his dancing feet to really care about dancing with him anymore.

It was too loud to speak. Neil shouted something but he might as well have been mouthing nonsense. Realising that Andrew couldn’t hear him, he reached out for him and snagged his sleeve, reeling him in. This time, it was Neil who nudged Andrew into motion, his body like a siren call. Andrew looked at the straps of his crop top and felt dizzy and hot. Neil’s mouth was laughing again, beautiful and easy. He was happy, Andrew realised. And maybe he was, too.

One song bled into another and by the time Neil suggested they should probably take a break and get some water, Andrew had lost track of how long they’d been on the dancefloor. Andrew slowly removed his hands from where they’d been resting on the small of Neil’s back and then, partly because he was feeling daring and partly because it was convenient, he slid his hand against Neil’s own and clumsily entangled their fingers so he could lead Neil back to the table. Neil’s hand was warm and clammy and Andrew’s heartbeat quickened as he looked straight ahead and pushed through the crowd. Finally, they made their way back to Kevin and then exchanged a short, questioning look before letting go and dropping their hands to their sides.

Andrew couldn’t help but notice the way Neil frowned as he flexed his fingers, as if disappointed by the sudden loss of touch. For about the millionth time that night, Andrew felt the desire to reach out and pull Neil into a kiss fill up his chest like a flash flood.

Dan distracted him by plonking both a glass of water and a shot of something swamp water green in his now-empty hands. He tossed back the shot first (something sour and sweet and vaguely detergent-y) before downing the water in three big gulps.

“So what do you guys do when this place closes?” Allison asked airily. “Afterparty?”

“Sometimes,” Nicky replied, grinning.

“Not tonight, though,” Neil said, pulling out his phone and checking the time. “Andrew and I have to get up early.”

“Early?” Allison repeated, as if the morning was an idea she didn’t agree with. “Why?”

“We’re driving up north tomorrow,” Neil explained, a faint blush creeping over his nose and cheekbones like pink wine staining a carpet. “We’re going on a romantic getaway.”

“A romantic getaway,” Nicky echoed dreamily, his eyes sparkling with a sudden flowering of tears. “I can’t believe it. You two really are- wow. You two really are cute, you know that?”

“Control yourself,” Andrew muttered.

“It _is_ cute,” Matt told Neil, looking like he might start blubbering at any moment as well. “You know that no matter how much grief we give you, we’re all thrilled for you, right?”

“Right,” Neil agreed tentatively, shooting Andrew a guilty look.

It was just one more sign that they would have to break this off soon. The trip was going to be one last hurrah, and then the dream would be over. Probably everyone was going to hate Andrew after this, for breaking their darling Neil’s heart--Andrew was aware of which side they would all take, no matter what story Neil would spin in the end about a mutual break-up. Even if they came clean and told them all the truth, they’d probably still find ways to hold it against Andrew; people always did.

He looked at Nicky, who was beaming at him like the day he’d graduated high school. He supposed “first boyfriend” was another achievement on the normal people list that Nicky could now check off for him. The only one who’d never be drunk enough to croon over how cute Neil and Andrew were was Aaron, and Andrew was weirdly grateful for it.

“Oh please,” Allison’s sharp drawl cut mercilessly into his thoughts. “Judging by that wonderful display of unresolved sexual tension we just got to witness on the dancefloor, they’ll be at it like rabbits all weekend, romance be damned. Well done, boys, I’m proud of you both.”

The strobe lights chose that moment to sweep elsewhere and Andrew couldn’t actually see the blush on Neil’s face, but it was clear he was embarrassed. Nicky let out a shrieking laugh and spilled some of his drink, Dan and Matt both grinned, and Allison drew Neil close, murmuring something into his ear that made him hide his face in his hand.

Andrew would have Allison to thank if all he could think about during their trip was taking Neil apart in all the ways he knew how.

The rest of the night went past in a blur and Andrew wasn’t even drunk. It was late by the time they all staggered outside, even later than their usual nights at Eden’s. Allison made a big production of claiming she was too drunk to drive and climbed into the passenger seat of Renee’s car, winking at Neil, who now had to go back with Andrew’s lot. Nicky passed his keys to Andrew to drive them back to the house, and both Aaron and Kevin fell asleep in the back seat on the way home.

Andrew himself was tired enough that he let Nicky corner him while Neil was in the bathroom. Maybe it was the cup of warm milk with honey that Nicky offered him, but he found he couldn’t even find it in himself to care when Nicky handed him a plastic bag with a sheepish smile and muttered something about supplies for the weekend.

“I know you’re probably prepared, but just in case,” he said hastily.

Andrew waited until he’d gone to peer inside the bag, spotted a box of condoms and a bottle of lube, and quickly stuffed it out of sight in one of his desk drawers when he heard the bathroom door open.

“Your turn,” Neil yawned. He’d washed off most of the make-up and changed into a t-shirt and a soft, old pair of sweatpants. His hair still bore evidence of having been styled, and there were smudges of eyeliner still where he hadn’t been able to rub it all off with a towel. He looked squinty-eyed and tired, a little creased around the edges, but if anything, it just made Andrew want him even more.

He locked himself in the bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped under the hot spray with a hiss. If they were going to share a room for the next two nights, this would likely be his best chance of taking the edge off the furious arousal he’d been fighting against all night.

He gave in to the fantasy of being permitted to slowly unravel Neil from his club outfit.

*

The drive to the hotel was a long one, and Neil spent the majority of it sleeping, his head lolling from side to side on the passenger seat headrest. Andrew enjoyed the silence for a while before connecting his phone to the car radio to catch up on true crime podcasts. When Neil finally woke up--suspiciously energised for someone who had just taken a nap that hibernating animals would describe as overboard--he switched to a radio station that only played ‘noughties throwback anthems’ and gave Andrew a running commentary about where he was and what he was up to when each song had been released. Andrew tossed in a few comments of his own before his growling stomach started drowning them both out.

They pulled into a gas station and Andrew bought coffee and candies and crackers as Neil ran laps in the lot, narrowly avoiding being steamrolled by the many passing cars. They returned to the car just as the sky bruised to a navy-blue, gauzy clouds clinging to it like those cobweb streamers you got at Halloween.

Neil turned Andrew’s podcast back on and they spent the rest of the drive listening to the relaxing drone of the presenter’s voice, munching on the snacks. The hotel was tucked snugly away up a bumpy, narrow road that was lined with apple trees. Andrew parked the car in the grounds, and they lugged their bags up the stone steps and into the lobby.

Lilting piano music greeted them at the reception desk, and smiling couples wandered in and out of the bars and lounges in fluffy bathrobes embroidered with the hotel’s logo, clutching cocktail glasses that were as large and round as goldfish bowls.

“This is heterosexual heaven,” Andrew muttered to Neil, who snorted at the comment.

“Let’s check in,” Neil replied, wandering up to the hotel desk.

Andrew didn’t pay much attention to his conversation with the clerk and instead drifted around the lobby, admiring the hideous artwork displayed on the walls. He was staring at a giant painting of a pair of cows on a mountain meadow, mounted in a rustic frame and guarded by two plastic palm trees on each side, when Neil sidled up to him with a sour expression.

“They said the coupon is only valid for a double room, and they can’t change it to a twin on such short notice,” he grumbled. “Maybe there’s a couch or something, then you can take the bed since I’m the one who dragged you here.”

Andrew felt his stomach crimp and crease with something like laughter. Of course there was only one bed. Of course, just when their charade was almost over, the universe had to go and add in another layer of discomfort for everyone involved. As they went up the stairs to their room, Andrew briefly toyed with the idea of finding a motel and spending the night there on his own, but the hotel was in the middle of nowhere and he didn’t want to just leave Neil here by himself.

After all, they were here _as friends_ , as Neil had said. And friends didn’t abandon each other, or at least Andrew assumed they didn’t.

“Huh,” Neil said when he’d unlocked their door. He paused for a moment, taking in the spacious room and the view from the windows, the ornate furniture, the large flat-screen TV on the wall and the indecently large bathtub. “This is fancier than I expected.”

“I thought Allison gave you the coupon.”

“Yeah,” Neil said sheepishly. “Look, there’s even a balcony. We could order room service and have dinner out there.”

He went to explore, shouting out comments about the wind and the view and the approaching grey clouds. Andrew sat down heavily on the bed, making some of the plush pillows and cushions bounce to the floor. For all the luxury the room provided, a couch wasn’t among its many features, just two distinctly uncomfortable-looking armchairs.

There was an assortment of small chocolates on the bedside tables. Andrew unwrapped one and stuck it in his mouth, biting down hard. The bed was really very big. They could probably both sleep in it without ever touching. If he were here with Aaron or Renee, Andrew would be okay sharing with them for a night. Maybe this wasn’t the universe being an asshole, maybe it was a test--a test of friendship. Or something.

God, he couldn’t even bullshit himself anymore.

“Hey, Andrew,” Neil said, and Andrew realised he was back inside and inspecting the leaflet on the coffee table. “There’s a whole wellness thingie downstairs that you can use if you want. Did you see the bathrobes? They’re so fluffy I’m tempted to steal one.”

“Dare you,” Andrew said. “What about you?”

“I’ll just… stay here and watch TV or something. Practise my lines. I could take a bath, I guess.”

Andrew watched as Neil picked at the hem of his shirt and peered into the bathroom again. He blinked away the mental image of Neil in the giant tub, flushed and dripping and covered in suds, and plucked the two bathrobes from their hangers.

“No one says you can’t wear a t-shirt underneath these,” he pointed out. “You can keep me company while I swim and stop people from trying to make small-talk with me.”

Neil grinned at him and slipped into the bathroom to change. While he was gone, Andrew switched his jeans and sweater for swimming trunks and folded himself into his own robe. Neil eventually emerged, a black collar and sleeves poking out of the cloud-like material of his bathrobe.

“Just like Betty and Roger,” Neil said, looking from his own robe to Andrew’s before laughing at his own joke.

“Let’s go,” Andrew said, tugging at the knotted tie around Neil’s middle to get him to follow him out of the room.

They made their way downstairs and found the wellness centre and spa. Everyone else must have been having dinner or boozing in the hotel bar, because they were the only ones there. Above the cobalt-blue pool stretching out before them was a skylight exposing a gemstoned strip of starry sky. The light catching on the pool’s surface danced across the seafoam-green tiles in shimmering waves. It was woodland-quiet, the faint dripping of water the only sound apart from their breathing.

Andrew disrobed and climbed into the pool. He did a few restless laps before resting his arms on the side, whistling at Neil to grab his attention.

“Hmm?” Neil said, looking across at him from where he was draped across a sunlounger.

“Want to swim?” Andrew asked.

“Someone could come in,” Neil replied, sounding unsure.

“Someone _could_ ,” Andrew agreed, “but probably won’t. They’re all getting sloshed.”

Neil pressed his lips together and looked to the door. Andrew knew he was asking a lot, but it wasn’t fair for Neil not to be able to enjoy the pool too. It was all theirs, after all.

“Okay,” Neil said finally, taking off his robe and standing at the side in a black shirt and shorts, “but I’ll leave these on.”

Andrew nodded and watched as Neil made his way down the little stepladder before swimming over to him. The greenish light lit up Neil’s entire body, making him look like a lost merman or some other mythical creature. The black material clung to his chest, revealing the contours of his muscles. Andrew swallowed thickly and Neil looked at him questioningly.

Huffing a sigh through his nose, Andrew splashed some water at him before taking off down the pool.

They swam a few slow, easy lengths before lounging at the deep end, chatting about school and kicking their legs through the water, neither of them able to reach the pool floor with their feet.

“Everyone was so happy for us yesterday,” Neil said eventually, bringing up the topic they’d been avoiding all day in lieu of just being Neil-and-Andrew. No pressure. No make-believe. “I felt bad, in a way. At first it was funny to trick them, but now it feels like-”

“Like we’re trampling all over their feelings?” Andrew supplied dryly.

“Yeah, like they’ll be kind of heartbroken when we tell them it’s all over and that it was all a joke,” Neil went on. “Speaking of which-”

“We’re here as friends, aren’t we?” Andrew interrupted, hoping the exasperation he was feeling wasn’t apparent in his voice. All he’d wanted was to talk to Neil about breaking up and finally putting an end to the charade, but now that the topic was actually rearing its head, he found he wanted to delay it. At least for one more night. What was wrong with him?

“Of course we are,” Neil answered, looking puzzled.

“Can we just drop this topic for now?” Andrew asked. “It’s boring.”

“Sure,” Neil replied, looking apologetic. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

They went back to their room to shower and get changed. Dinner was a lavish affair, and several courses later Andrew felt so full he wasn’t sure if the buttons on his jeans would survive the walk up the stairs. Neil, who’d had some wine, kept supplying him with muttered comments about the other hotel guests, judging them on everything from fashion sense to table manners, how they treated their kids and whether or not Neil thought their marriage was going to last. Andrew joined in with an occasional observation, and they made their way upstairs in good spirits, discussing whether the elderly lady who had sat at the table next to them had a chance with the young waiter she’d been flirting with all night.

“No way,” Andrew said, “he was definitely gay.”

“Oh? How do you know?” Neil grinned. “Was he flirting with you, too? Not that I’d blame him, you’re very handsome in that shirt. Tan France would be proud.”

“Fuck off.”

They reached their room and Andrew was still trying to erase that comment from his memory, unsuccessfully as always, when his eyes fell on the bed.

He’d almost managed to forget about the bed situation. Neil let him have the bathroom first and he splashed cold water on his face for as long as he could stand it. When he was done, he tested both sides of the bed while Neil took his turn in the bathroom, trying to figure out which one he was more comfortable with, but they were both the same. He pulled the covers over his head and sighed. The bed was as nice as it could be, yet everything felt itchy and wrong, and all he wanted right now was to be back home and in his own bed.

He felt the dip and bounce of the mattress as Neil climbed in on the other side. The lights turned off and there was some shuffling, then Neil’s foot accidentally bumped into his and they both flinched.

“Jesus, your feet are freezing,” Neil mumbled.

“At least I’m not wearing socks to bed.”

“Wow,” Neil laughed. “What happened to we’re here as friends?”

Andrew swallowed and bit down the flirty response that lingered on the tip of his tongue. Neil noticed his silence and lifted the blanket so he could peer at Andrew’s face in the darkness.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Okay?”

“Fine,” Andrew bit out and rolled onto his side, away from Neil. He twisted his hands violently into the sheets to make sure they wouldn’t wander where they weren’t supposed to in the night and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Night,” Neil said, sounding hesitant.

“Night,” Andrew muttered back. He half expected Neil to continue talking, but there was only muffled silence, and after several long minutes had passed, Andrew focused back on the task of falling asleep.

He had just about managed to doze off when he was startled awake by movement. His first instinct was to lash out, but his momentum was hindered by the way the sheets were still caught around his arms and hands, and by the time his mind had cleared enough to recognise that he was still alone in a hotel room with Neil he was also lucid enough to realise that it was Neil who had woken him up.

He felt around for the light switch and turned on his bedside lamp. Neil was sitting up, hugging himself and trying to suck in deep, long breaths, though they sounded laborious.

“Neil,” Andrew said, scrabbling for words. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Neil wheezed, “fine. Sorry. M’fine.”

He raked his hands through his hair and flopped back down into the pillows, scratching absently at old scars through his t-shirt. Andrew got up to give him some space and went over to the mini bar to find some bottled water. He knew first-hand how long it could take to get settled after a nightmare.

Neil sat up after Andrew had passed him the water and started sipping it tentatively, the plastic clacking against his teeth. Andrew folded his arms and perched on the bed beside him, keeping a wedge of space in between their bodies. Neil’s breathing was still shallow and his shoulders were still quivering, as if he were a bird struggling to unfold its wings.

“Neil,” Andrew said again, hoping his voice would drag Neil away from the edge of panic.

“Can you-?” Neil replied, shooting him a significant look.

Andrew nodded and shuffled closer, winding his hand around Neil to settle on the back of his neck. He pressed down gently yet firmly.

He could remember the first time they had done this. Neil had been drowning in the cold waters of a terrible panic attack and Andrew had exhausted all the usual options. He’d tried waiting for it to pass, but it was persistent and it was also, startlingly, frightening. Andrew hated that Neil could be pulled somewhere out of his reach.

Almost out of instinct, he’d planted his palm against Neil’s neck and it had instantly calmed him. It had moored him to the room and to Andrew too. After that, it happened only a handful of times, but each time was the same. He’d massage his fingertips into the soft skin just below Neil’s auburn curls and end up making these nonsensical shushing sounds that nobody could ever, _ever_ find out about.

“Do you mind if we lie down?” Neil murmured.

Andrew nodded and they lowered themselves on top of the floral patchwork quilt and turned to face each other. Neil’s pulse had slowed and his breathing had evened out, so Andrew began to move his hand away.

“You don’t have to stop,” Neil told him. “Unless it’s uncomfortable-”

“Shut up,” Andrew muttered, pressing his hand down against Neil’s neck and then smoothing his fingers into his hair.

“Sorry for waking you,” Neil said, leaning into his touch. “You can turn off the light if you want.”

Andrew rolled over and flipped the light switch before returning to his spot opposite Neil. Their knees bumped together as Andrew’s hand clumsily found its way back to Neil’s neck.

Neat rows of silvery light slipped through the gaps in the blinds, illuminating the room enough for Andrew to make out Neil’s shape in the shadows. Neil’s eyes were the same dark, icy blue as snow twinkling at night-time, and his steady gaze was tethered to Andrew’s own. Andrew swallowed audibly. The silence surrounding them seemed to bend and whine under an unbearable weight. Andrew twirled a strand of Neil’s hair around his finger and then let it spring away, and for wild minute, he thought about telling him. He could say it: _This is real for me._

As Neil’s eyes slowly drifted shut, the ridiculous urge disintegrated into nothing and was replaced by a familiar weariness deep inside his chest. Andrew sighed. He was too exhausted to feel sorry for himself.

Quite unintentionally, he fell asleep with his arm wrapped around Neil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're just a couple of sushi rolls who hang out on tumblr. find us @ [annawrites (moonix)](http://annawrites.tumblr.com) and [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com) :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we originally had grand ideas about replying to comments, but it turns out we are useless gremlins and have been very slack in doing that. we apologise and want to thank everyone who left comments or sent us asks, big love for all of you!!
> 
> we are serving up some sweet sweet angst in this chapter so get your spoons and dig in!

Andrew didn’t wake up with his arm around Neil--it was much, much worse than that.

It was early, the light still a little bluesy around the edges. The blankets had formed a perfect cocoon around him, warm and cosy, and Andrew continued to doze for a little while, not ready to face the irrefutable fact of Neil’s body pressed against his side just yet.

Neil was a very quiet sleeper. He barely even twitched, and his body was folded up neat and tight, taking up the least amount of space possible. Yet he’d somehow managed to scoot closer to Andrew as the night progressed, slowly enough so as not to trigger his fight or flight reflex, and was now safely tucked against him. One of his hands was curled shyly into the fabric of Andrew’s shirt and his ankle had cheekily hooked itself around Andrew’s leg, effectively trapping him.

Andrew should have slept on the fucking armchair.

It took several tries before he managed to extricate himself from Neil’s limbs and a whole lot of self control to resist the temptation of climbing right back into bed when Neil made a sad, sleepy noise at the loss. Andrew shut himself in the bathroom and rinsed away the last remnants of Neil’s warmth in the shower, telling himself it was for the best.

Today was the day it was all going to end. If Andrew was lucky, going back to being Neil’s friend rather than his fake boyfriend would be enough of a cognitive shift that he could finally stop wanting what he couldn’t have. He’d trained himself out of it in foster care, after all; he could do it again.

Neil was awake when he finally emerged, but only just. His eyes were squinty and sleep-bright, peering out blearily from a mound of pillows. He’d scrunched up the duvet as a replacement for Andrew’s body and his hair stuck up in all directions.

“Where’d you go?” Neil mumbled sleepily. 

“Bathroom,” Andrew answered, grabbing his phone from the nightstand to check the time. “Check-out is-  _ was _ twenty minutes ago.”

“We’re running late?” Neil said as he bolted upright in bed. “Shit. I guess that sleep was just too good to wake up from.”

Andrew didn’t disagree with the sentiment, but he didn’t really want to talk about it either. 

“You should take a shower now if you want one,” he muttered, busying himself with packing his things so he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about how inviting the bed looked, with its promise of Neil and warmth and soft, slept-in blankets. 

Neil opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a loud knock on the door followed by a muffled voice.

“Uh- we’ll be out in a minute,” Neil called, hopping out of bed and rushing over to the bathroom.

Andrew continued packing their things and ignored the second knock on the door that came ten minutes later, choosing instead to swipe the remaining complimentary chocolates into his bag. 

In the end, they were out in twenty.

*

Though the sun was out, bathing the trees in golden syrupy light and casting patchwork shadows across the parking lot, there was a chill in the air. Climbing inside Nicky’s car was like climbing inside of an ice box, and Andrew rubbed his bare hands together to generate a smidgen of warmth as they waited for the car to heat up. Misty condensation spread across the windows like ink crawling across a clean sheet of paper. 

Neil fiddled with Andrew’s iPod as Andrew drove away from the hotel. He scrolled through dozens of playlists, clicking past songs without letting anything play out. Sighing, he turned it off and put it away. Quiet bloomed in the small space like a balloon Andrew wanted to reach out and pop. 

“I think we should talk now,” Neil said, jerking forward in his seat as the car lurched over a bump in the road.

“Okay, Bee,” Andrew replied sarcastically, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

Neil snorted softly and leaned his head against the window, looking at Andrew out of the corner of his eyes.

“So, what are we gonna tell the others?”

“Nothing,” Andrew said pettily. Neil rolled his eyes.

“We need to tell them  _ something _ . You know they’re not gonna let it go unless we do.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew said. “Pick whatever you want. Tell them I cheated on you with the pool boy or something.”

“Don’t,” Neil laughed. “Matt will challenge you to a duel and you’ll kill him and then I’ll have to find a new best friend.”

Andrew’s stomach lurched as if they’d gone over another pothole. He was being stripped of his status as Neil’s fake boyfriend and now apparently Matt had taken his place as Neil’s best friend, too. He wouldn’t have expected that to hurt as much as it did--god damn it, Bee, why did he have to feel things, feeling things was  _ bullshit _ \--and he bit down hard on his tongue and glared at the empty road ahead.

“We’ll just say we had a talk and decided that it wasn’t what we both wanted after all,” Neil suggested when Andrew remained silent. “We realised we’re better off as friends and that neither of us really wants to be in a relationship at all. That way they’ll leave us both alone about dating and we can just go back to being friends. Problem solved.”

Andrew’s mouth felt chalky and dry. The ride back would still take hours, and there was nothing there to come home to, just a cold, empty apartment. The week ahead was filled with work and classes and more work, and Neil would be stuck in rehearsal for every scrap of his free time. Andrew felt tired just thinking about it.

He should be relieved, he knew that, but if ending things was supposed to be a good thing, why did he feel so shitty? 

“Whatever,” he said, and turned on another podcast.

*

“No,” Nicky said. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, barely above a whisper, and he appeared to physically deflate. Andrew hadn’t seen him so devastated since they’d last watched Titanic on DVD.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Kevin said gruffly, studying them with his beady eyes as if they were a particularly difficult sudoku puzzle.   

“No,” Nicky repeated, more petulantly now. 

Andrew sighed and leant against the car, not in the mood to deal with Nicky’s dramatics. Aaron, he noticed, apparently felt the same, as he wandered back inside without a word. Andrew watched him go and then turned his attention back to Neil, who was fending off Nicky and Kevin with his excuses and explanations. 

“I  _ told  _ you,” Neil said, brow creasing, “we just think we’re better off as friends.”

“Friends,” Kevin repeated, snorting as if the idea were ludicrous.

Neil took a deep breath and repeated the speech he’d prepared on the journey back. Andrew watched him spit the lies out of his mouth with ease. 

Neil truly was a very good actor. 

Nicky threw his hands up in the air as if to say  _ I give up _ before going back inside the house, presumably to retrieve Aaron. Kevin, on the other hand, stood rooted to the spot, watching them suspiciously. 

“Got a problem?” Andrew muttered.

“You two are hiding something,” he said, pointing first at Neil and then at Andrew. “I’m going to figure it out eventually.”

“Figure it out in the car,” Andrew said tiredly. “We are going back to campus. Now.”

As usual, it took a while to round everyone up. Andrew wished he had brought his bike so he could just leave on his own and let them sort themselves out. He didn’t even want to take Neil right now, he just wanted to be alone.

The drive back to campus was strained and quiet. Nicky occasionally started to say something, then hiccuped himself back to silence, looking upset. Kevin was brooding, Neil was pretending to be asleep, and Aaron kept trying to catch Andrew’s eyes in the rearview mirror without saying a single word. Being twins didn’t mean they could read each other’s fucking minds, Andrew thought bitterly and not for the first time. If Aaron wanted something, he had to spit it out.

He dropped everyone off in a bad mood, kicking them out of the car without a goodbye. Instead of switching to letting Nicky drive himself home, Andrew waited until Neil was gone before reversing out of the parking lot.

“You don’t have to,” Nicky started to protest. A warning glare from Andrew shut him up, though it didn’t stop him from watching Andrew worriedly all the way to the parking lot outside Nicky’s building.

At least slamming car doors was very cathartic. And he could take his time stomping his way back home and clear his head.

“Andrew,” Nicky called after him. Andrew nearly kept walking, but something in his tone made him stop. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” Andrew spat and dug in his pocket for some cigarettes.

“That’s a no, then,” Nicky said wryly. “Look, I know you don’t like confiding in me, and you have Bee and Renee, so I’m not going to pry, but… I’m here if you need someone to talk to, yeah? I just want you to know that.”

Andrew bit his tongue to keep a scathing reply from slipping free. He managed a jerky little nod in Nicky’s vague direction before shaking himself off and walking away.

There was nothing to talk about. There’d never been anything between Neil and him, and there wasn’t ever going to be. Andrew just had to walk it off.

*

Neil was busy with rehearsals all week, so Andrew had the place to himself a lot of the time. He ditched his classes and spent his mornings smoking inside and writing neverending paragraphs of meandering, stream-of-consciousness nonsense that he inevitably scribbled over and tossed away. He’d shower late and drink way too much coffee, ignoring the slew of messages from Renee and the annoyingly frequent calls from Aaron. He ended up hiding his phone underneath the couch so he wouldn’t have to look at it and filled the string of empty hours organising his notebooks or cooking complicated dishes so he wouldn’t have to think too hard about anything. He knew he should have been happy. The charade was done and he and Neil could finally go back to being ‘just friends’. There would be no more fake dates in which his easily fooled heart would respond to Neil’s words or touches as if they were real. 

Instead though, he just felt like he’d been dumped.  _ Really _ dumped. Like, wallowing-in-bed-while-comfort-eating-five-pints-of-ice-cream dumped. It was so trite it made him hate himself. 

After five days of staying inside and not interacting with anyone except for Neil on the rare occasions he was home, Aaron showed up at the dorm demanding to be let inside. Andrew begrudgingly unlocked the door and let Aaron stomp his way into the kitchen.

“You’ve been dodging everyone’s calls, so I thought I’d just drop by,” Aaron said, running his hand along the neatly-stacked clean dishes. “Everybody wants to know if you’re still coming to Neil’s play.”

“Of course I’m still coming,” Andrew bit out, picking at a crusty smudge of peanut butter adorning the countertop that he must have missed while cleaning. “We’re still ‘friends’, remember?”

“It’s tonight,” Aaron said, offering him a flat look.

_ Fuck _ , he thought, his fingers freezing in midair. It  _ was  _ tonight. He really had lost track of time feeling sorry for himself.

“You forgot?  _ You _ ?” Aaron said, exasperated. “Where do you think Neil has been, exactly? Kevin has had them do back-to-back dress runs for days on end. He’s so exhausted I’m not sure how he’s even going to perform tonight, to be honest.”

“You talked to him?” Andrew asked quietly.

“A little,” Aaron replied, rolling his eyes. “He’s about as forthcoming as you are. You both know you’re supposed to talk about these things, right?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Andrew countered.

“That’s what Neil said, too.”

Andrew made a swishy hand gesture to say that that proved his point. Then he opened a cupboard at random and stared at the mugs lined up neatly on the shelf inside. He’d sorted them according to colour this morning, then he’d shuffled them around into a sort of timeline of when they’d bought which mug. He’d even tried to arrange them in order of least to most hideous, but it was a futile task. In the end he’d gone back to a random system.

“Look,” Aaron sighed, leaning on the counter. “Neil’s been running himself ragged and he looks fucking miserable. You’re clearly not coping well either. Are you sure breaking up was a wise idea?”

“Yes,” Andrew said firmly. “I’m going to get changed.”

He left Aaron in the kitchen and went to his room, listlessly pulling half his wardrobe out onto the floor. The last items he grabbed were a black turtleneck and dark grey pair of jeans and he half-heartedly changed into them, trying to ignore the heavy weight that sat in his stomach at the prospect of watching Neil perform tonight.

He didn’t bother with his hair, even though it had slowly turned into a rat’s nest over the course of the day, and Aaron took one exasperated look at him and led him to the nearest Subway to force some food in him. Andrew picked his sandwich apart more than he ate it, and then they sat in silence, sipping their drinks and watching the day condense into dusk outside the window.

“Ready?” Aaron asked after glancing at his watch. Andrew slid off his seat.

“Where’s Katelyn?”

“We’re meeting her at the theatre along with the others.”

Andrew grunted. He didn’t really have the energy to face the others and their excitement about the play and incessant nagging about the break-up, but the only other option was not to go to the premiere, and he’d promised Neil he would be there.

It was dark by the time they arrived. Aaron fused seamlessly to Katelyn’s side and Andrew managed to loiter apart from the rest, slowly smoking a cigarette and trying to make it last until they had to go inside. Renee joined him but thankfully didn’t ask any questions, and they amused themselves silently for a while trying to blow smoke rings and bubblegum bubbles at one another until Nicky called them back.

They made their way into the college theatre, which was packed with students chatting animatedly and finding their seats. Kevin’s productions were legendary on campus, and nobody wanted to miss out on the latest theatrical spectacle. 

“What wacky interpretation did Kevin settle on in the end, anyway?” Nicky asked as they shuffled down their aisle. 

“Traditional Elizabethan,” Aaron answered, smirking as Nicky tripped over some girl’s backpack. 

“That’s… fresh,” Dan said, frowning thoughtfully. “For Kevin, at least.”

Andrew followed them silently and sunk heavily into his seat. Nobody had broached the topic of the break-up with him yet, but Wilds, Boyd and Reynolds kept looking down the aisle at him with shifty expressions. He glared back at them before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. The theatre lights were bright and golden and he could feel something like a headache squirming in his temples. The thought of watching the boy he’d fallen so violently for perform crusty old Shakespeare for a few hours was an excruciating one. He badly wanted to leave. Run home. Set fire to his belongings. Skip town. Anything but endure the fucking play. 

Renee nudged him. 

“You look like you’re going to murder someone.” 

“I just might.”

“Ease up. It’s Neil’s big show,” she said soothingly, a tiny crease blooming in between her eyes. 

Andrew grit his teeth into the semblance of a grin and nodded. The lights dimmed and the chatter dropped to a gentle murmur and then, finally, silence as the red velvet curtains swished open, revealing a set of towering spires framing a great hallway, lit by soft, violet light.

Neil sat languidly on an elaborately patterned wooden chair, wrapped in a velvet cape and with a white concertina-like ruff adorning his neck. His cheeks were rose-flushed with make-up and his eyes were lined with shimmery brown powder. It made his blue eyes look even more striking in the smoky, purple haze of the stage lighting. Andrew had barely seen Neil since their doomed romantic getaway. The morning when they’d woken up entangled in each other seemed like an entire lifetime ago. Now, Neil was sitting looking perfect and poised in front of him. It sent a flutter-shock of longing careening through him and he balled his hands into fists on top of his jeans. No matter how many times he told himself he would, he’d never get over this. Not ever. 

The play unfurled in front of him like a fever dream. He watched Neil come and go from the stage, playing a pining, lovesick fool, and he tried not to feel jealous because that would be stupid. When he wasn’t paying attention, his gaze wandered to Kevin in the front row. Kevin kept fidgeting and running a hand through his hair, antagonising himself with anxiety. He needn’t bother, Andrew thought. Even he could tell the performance was faultless. 

Eventually, the universe took mercy on him and the curtains drew together. The house lights burned down on him like death rays.

He muttered something indistinct about a migraine and fled amid the last trickle of applause, stomach turning at the prospect of encountering a giddy, flushed Neil still in the throes of a stage high. Last year Neil had hugged him twice--carefully telegraphing his movements first, of course, because even in his adrenaline-fuelled haze he was nothing if not conscious of Andrew’s boundaries. The memory of Neil’s arms around him, the slightly musty smell lingering from his costume mingled with sweat and make-up, and the husky, purring sound of his voice as he thanked Andrew specifically for coming was as vivid in his mind as if someone had turned the stage lights on it.

He welcomed the darkness outside, letting it hide him. Maybe Neil would be too busy to even notice that Andrew hadn’t come to congratulate him. There’d be a post-mortem with Kevin and then a premiere party that he’d get whisked away to like every year, even though he always said he wouldn’t go, and then he’d come home late, sleep-drunk and exhausted and fall into bed without even changing his clothes. What did it matter if Andrew stayed up for him? Just because he’d done it last year and the year before didn’t mean it was a  _ thing _ .

Nothing was a thing, because they were nothing, and Andrew didn’t even care anymore, he just wanted to go home and lick his wounds in peace.

He fished around in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes but came up empty. The other pocket didn’t yield any better results, which was weird, because he’d definitely had a half-full packet before the play. He groped around in the first pocket again, then tried the pockets on his jeans, but the only things he found were his phone and his wallet.

Which meant that he’d lost not just his cigarettes but also his keys somewhere between here and the auditorium.

He breathed in slowly and released the spent air in a thin, steady stream. His phone declared several unread messages and Andrew quickly scanned the previews, but they mostly seemed to be about his absence. His fingers stumbled over a text to Renee, asking if she’d by any chance found his keys, but her phone didn’t seem to be on. Cursing softly to himself, he turned around and walked back to the auditorium. No one besides him and Neil had a spare key to their apartment. Even if Andrew were prepared to sleep on someone else’s couch, the thought of those keys being in a stranger’s possession made his skin crawl, and he knew Neil would feel the same. He’d just slip back into the theatre while everyone else was leaving, grab the keys and find a back door to jimmy open in the unused part of the building. Easy.

The first part of the plan went accordingly, though he had to duck out of sight of Reynolds as she exited the women’s bathroom. The theatre was almost empty, save for a few clumps of students avidly discussing the play, and Andrew quickly moved down the rows to his seat. There was a metallic glint on the floor and he had to crawl underneath the seat to pick up his keys and the squashed packet of cigarettes that must have fallen out of his jacket, but at least they were still there.

He emerged, dusty and slightly worse for wear, hitting his head on the way up, and nearly dropped the keys again when he saw Kevin standing right next to him.

“Why are you skulking in the middle of the auditorium like Frankenstein’s monster?” Andrew quipped, rubbing the back of his head and flashing Kevin a cruel smile. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your crew?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Kevin retorted, folding his arms. “Neil would want you at the party.”

“I don’t do theatre kid parties,” Andrew replied.

“You’re being an ass,” Kevin said, rolling his eyes.

“Takes one to know one. I’m not sure Neil  _ would  _ want me at your cute little party,” Andrew snarled. “In case you hit your head and forgot, we broke up.”

“Oh, yeah, the mysterious break-up,” Kevin said, throwing his hands up in the air, his voice rising enough so that the younger students turned to look at them. “The one that makes zero sense and has left you both miserable.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? I told you I’d figure it out.”

“Oh yeah? And what have  _ you _ , Kevin Day, with your grand, superior intellect, come up with?”

“I think you guys were faking,” Kevin said, much quieter now, narrowing his eyes at Andrew as if he had x-ray vision and could see right down to his bone marrow. “I think you decided to mess with us because we were bothering Neil with the betting and the speculating, so you pretended. You took a couple of cute photos, went on a few dates and thought you could just call it off, only that’s not working out so well, because while you  _ said _ it was fake, the feelings were real-”

“Shut up,” Andrew snapped coldly, not willing to hear any more. He couldn’t believe Kevin of all people had worked it out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Kevin continued, though he took a cautious step backward, as if he were afraid Andrew was about to start swinging punches.

Andrew just glared at him. He desperately wanted to be at home, alone and away from everything. 

“You can still fix it,” Kevin said, more softly now. “If you tell him- Andrew, I really think he might-”

“As always, you need to mind your own business, Kevin,” Andrew told him. He didn’t need to hear any more hopeful bullshit. He’d been emptied of hope. He could feel it keenly, as if it had been carved out of him.

Kevin started talking again, but Andrew pushed past him, tuning him out. He stalked out of the theatre--miraculously not bumping into Renee or Aaron or anybody on the way out--and started walking home. The air was refreshingly crisp as he strode across campus and he forcefully obliterated Kevin’s words from his mind. It seemed to work; his heart hammered away in his chest but his head felt blissfully blank. He smoked a steadying cigarette and fished out his phone again. He’d received a couple more texts, but he flicked them away as if they were bugs crawling on the screen. After the texts had been successfully stored, unread, in the black hole of his phone’s inbox, he checked his emails in order to distract himself further. There were a couple of boring ones from his various professors and a much more interesting one from the schools’ literary society announcing a poetry slam.

He sent a quick reply to sign up and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. Words were already swarming his brain like insects, flies he couldn’t swat. He was going to lock himself in his bedroom with a bottle of whisky and bleed himself dry of them, and hopefully by tomorrow he’d be able to function like a person again, or at least like whatever approximation of a normal human being Andrew usually acted like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, you can find us on tumblr as [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com/) and [moonix/annawrites](https://annawrites.tumblr.com/), stop by for a cuppa if you want to chat about these losers or send secret anonymous confessions of love!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooray!  
> it's friday!  
> will andrew be okay?  
> will these two ever find a way?
> 
> (this is a performance poem)

Andrew woke with a vague headache thumping behind his temples. His bedside lamp was still on, a thin sheen of electric light layered on top of the grey, grizzled sunlight seeping in from outside. His notebook had landed on the floor, displaying one of his old black-out poems, and Andrew kicked it shut on his way up. His mouth felt fuzzy from the alcohol he’d consumed last night and his room was a mess, clothes still heaped haphazardly on the floor and several of his carefully stacked books tipped over. The longing he’d felt watching Neil perform had simmered down to a distant heartburn, and he was relieved to find that Neil himself was still dead to the world when he got up.

Kevin had been too busy with the rehearsals to fill their fridge and monitor their groceries this week, so after a quick shower and a brief, fruitless examination of their cupboards Andrew grabbed his keys and quietly left the dorms in search of breakfast. He treated himself to a cup of coffee while he waited for his order, watching the world outside through a miserly haze of drizzle and mist. The week ahead still loomed in all its bleakness, but he felt more settled after last night’s word-vomit session. It was just business as usual again now.

He grabbed the bag with his food and walked back to the dorms with his collar turned up against the rain. Neil still wasn’t up, so Andrew left Neil’s breakfast on the counter while he ate his portion standing up. He checked the reviews of last night’s play on his phone, then busied himself with the crossword in a newspaper that Kevin had abandoned on their coffee table some time ago while sipping at a cup of green tea. He’d picked the habit up from Renee and kept a box of loose-leaf tea around for when he needed caffeine but felt too wired or sick for straight-up coffee.

When he finally heard Neil stir, he got up to make more tea and put Neil’s breakfast into the microwave to reheat. Andrew being in charge of the post-premiere breakfast had sort of become their tradition, and he wasn’t going to flag now despite everything that had happened.

Nevertheless, Neil looked surprised when he shuffled out of the bathroom and was presented with a plate of piping hot food and a mug of tea that boasted something about the best smoked sausage in all of Texas.

“Thanks,” he muttered, sitting across from Andrew.

They both sipped their tea as they looked at each other unblinkingly, as if they were having some kind of intense, high-stakes staring contest. The glitzy, blurry remnants of last night’s stage makeup simmered underneath Neil’s morning-bright eyes. The glittery smudges almost covered up the dark half-moons that were brooding there as well. Andrew opened his mouth to ask how the party had been but ended up just blowing a rogue strand of hair out of his face before looking out the window instead.

“Did you get up to much last night?” Neil asked. There was a spectre of disappointment hovering around his words, so thin and fleeting that Andrew wasn’t sure he’d imagined it being there in the first place.  

“Wrote a bit,” Andrew replied with a shrug.

“Oh,” Neil said. “Cool.”

Andrew tapped his thumb and index finger against the countertop as Neil proceeded to eat his breakfast in silence. He understood why Neil wasn’t asking him why he didn’t come to the premiere party; Neil understood that it wasn’t really Andrew’s scene and he knew that Andrew didn’t feel like socialising sometimes. What he _had_ expected was for Neil to ask him why he hadn’t waited up. It had been unusual for him not to do so. Maybe Neil didn’t want to pry or felt awkward. Maybe he just didn’t notice. Didn’t care.

“Oh, yeah,” Neil said, fishing out his phone from his sweatpants pocket. “I got a notification from the literary society thingie. They’re having another poetry slam. Did you know?”

Andrew nodded and looked down at the swirl of tea remaining in his mug.

“Are you going to perform?”

Andrew thought about the ugly mess of _feelings_ spewed across his notebook pages. He was planning on whipping it into shape in time for the slam as--while it had been written in a state of drunken idiocy--it was good, raw, and everyone had already heard all of his other stuff. That did mean that there was absolutely no way Neil could hear it, however.

“Nope,” he answered.

“Oh well,” Neil said, before flashing him a mischievous smile. “Wanna go anyway? We could make fun of the terrible poems like last time.”

“I can’t,” Andrew told him. “I’m busy that night.”

“Oh,” Neil replied, bringing his thumb to his mouth to bite on his nail. “Okay.”

Andrew didn’t know what else to say, so he just grabbed Neil’s empty plate and walked over to the sink, dumping it in there along with his mug. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as he twisted the faucet. He’d thought the tea had cured his hangover but it was still lingering, making him feel irritable and nauseous.

“Hey, Andrew,” Neil said. “Things are okay between us, right?”

Andrew turned to face him but didn’t answer.

“After everything-” Neil began, before trailing off.

“Things are fine,” Andrew lied robotically. He wanted more than anything for things to go back to normal, but last night had proved to him that it was going to be harder than he’d originally thought. He was in so deep he was practically drowning. He needed to come up for air, and he needed to do that alone. Venting to a room of strangers would be a good start.

“Things are fine,” he said again when Neil just looked at him, unconvinced.

“If you say so,” Neil mumbled.

Andrew wiped his damp hands on his shirt and digged his phone out from his hoodie pocket.

“Here,” he said, sitting down next to Neil and pulling up his screenshots. “I checked the reviews.”

Neil visibly brightened, swivelling around on his stool so that his and Andrew’s knees were touching.

Andrew hesitated a moment, and then started reading aloud.

*

Andrew tried to keep himself busy the following two weeks. He took on a few extra shifts at the store, scheduled two sessions with Bee, took his motorcycle for a check-up that wasn’t quite due yet, and found himself going for long walks with only his cigarettes and a very cathartic Spotify playlist for company. He and Neil didn’t go out for waffles, because Andrew couldn’t stomach the thought of going back there just now and Neil was still busy with the subsequent performances of Twelfth Night and juggling his shifts and his classwork on top of the late nights. If they hung out, it was for quick meals before one of them had to dash off, or to sit on opposite ends of the sofa and watch Netflix while Neil inevitably nodded off.

It could have been worse, but Andrew still felt like a black hole had sucked all the tiny bits of joy out of his life that he’d fought so hard to instate there. He couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning for hours every night, time stretching and stretching until nothing made sense anymore and the sheer cabin fever of it made Andrew get up and leave the dorms just to walk it off. Aaron, Renee and Nicky all tried to talk to him but he brushed them off. The only ones he couldn’t seem to get rid of were Kevin, who still came by every morning to make sure he and Neil weren’t going back to their dry-cereal-counts-as-breakfast-phase, and Jeremy, who kept shooting him sympathetic glances during their shifts and insisted on sneaking him hot chocolates from the vending machine in the staff room. The stuff tasted chalky and bland and Andrew wanted to fling it back in Jeremy’s face every time--he didn’t need pity hand-outs--but the prospect of going to the café instead and facing Neil’s creased late-night smile and his husky, tired voice was enough to curb the impulse.

The night of the poetry slam, Andrew was relieved to find that Neil had left to go somewhere with Kevin so that Kevin could tell him his ideas for what the next play should be and Neil could tell him exactly why they were all terrible ideas. Andrew allowed himself a brief nap, woke up feeling anything but refreshed and stood under the shower for an age and a half until his skin was threatening to melt off his fingertips. Normally he would have fussed over his outfit for such a night, but today he couldn’t be bothered and fished a pair of faded black sweatpants and the first t-shirt he could find out of his wardrobe. It turned out to be one of Renee’s Hayley Kiyoko shirts that must have got mixed up with his laundry after a sleepover--they were both broad and stocky, though, so it fit him well enough.

He didn’t grab his notebook--the words were all but etched into his brain--though he did double back for the scuffed little lucky cat keychain that Neil had given him for his first poetry slam despite Andrew’s protest that he wasn’t nervous and didn’t need any luck. He shoved it deep into the pocket of his fleece-lined jacket and shook a cigarette out of the packet as he left.

The poetry slam was organised by Laila Dermott, who was about as committed to the literary society as Kevin was to the campus theatre, which meant that turn-out was always high. Andrew smoked his last cigarette outside the venue, where people were already milling about having pretentious conversations and showing off their pretentious outfits. Andrew hated every last one of them. Inside the bar wasn’t much better, but the lighting was low and there was booze to be had. After signing in with Alvarez at the door, Andrew got himself a glass of whisky and snagged himself one of the seats reserved for the performers, as far off to the side as possible.

He sipped his whisky and thought about nothing, the noise congealing into a uniform buzzing in his ears until Laila went on stage and announced the first performer of the night. Andrew was on last before the break, which suited him fine; it meant he could leave right after without anyone noticing. He wasn’t interested in winning these things or listening to anyone else, he was just here to dump his emotional trash on these idiots and be done with it.

“Next up is our perpetual dark horse and resident mean girl--some of you may remember him from the last slam, which he won with a piece called _How I would have killed my mother if she hadn’t killed herself first_ \--please give it up for Andrew!”

Andrew rolled his eyes at Laila and dragged himself on stage, one hand closed around the lucky cat token in his pocket. It was dark beyond the stage lights, and he couldn’t make out anyone’s face in the crowd except for Laila, who stood off to the side with her phone to make sure no one went over the time limit.

“I hate all of you,” Andrew said into the microphone by way of introduction, making the regular members of the audience titter and catcall like he was joking. He ignored them and launched right into his poem, ruthlessly stamping out every tiny tremor or scratch in his voice until it was just one fast, flat line of recitation.

“Rules for when you’re desperately, pathetically in love with your best friend but he isn’t desperately, pathetically in love with you back,” he began, rubbing his thumb over the lucky cat’s tiny pointed ears, back and forth, back and forth, like a metronome to keep time of his words. His higher brain functions switched off, everything narrowing down to the steady stream of words pouring from him like poison. He got to the last line-- _rule number ten: don’t fucking write a poem about him_ \--and walked abruptly off the stage without even waiting for his applause.

It was done. He felt light-headed and inexplicably sweaty, probably a by-product of the stage lights, and went over to the bar for another glass of whisky to steady his hands on. Laila babbled something into the microphone, explaining the voting process and announcing the break after, but Andrew barely heard her as he strode over to the bar and ordered a whisky to knock back before bolting.

He upended the tumbler and the burning, smoky liquid filled his mouth. When he swallowed, the heat spread through his chest like wildfire. He imagined it razing through him, turning everything to ash. The thought was oddly reassuring. He slammed the empty glass down on the bar and turned, freezing when his eyes met the instantly recognisable blue ones staring at him from across the room.

Time seemed to stand still and then resume in slow motion. The jangly indie folk music playing over the speakers slowed to a creeping funeral dirge; the energetic murmuring thinned to a low, ominous hum, and the people walking around the bar seemed to stand still, or else, move as if they were treading through sticky molasses. Andrew’s thoughts slowed down too, everything distilled--narrowed down--into one single, simple _‘fuck’_.

Neil was staring at him, his eyes alight with lightning-flash shock. His mouth fluttered open briefly, as if he were about to say something, but then he closed it again, seemingly at a loss for words. By his side, Kevin was rubbing his temples as if to ward off a particularly awful incoming headache. Andrew held Neil’s gaze for a split second longer and then headed for the door. Fireworks of panic exploded in his brain, a litany of ‘oh shit’ being recited in his head, but he forced himself to jog all the way home. Nobody caught up with him, which meant Neil--who was much faster than him--hadn’t followed him. But then, why would he?

Andrew had just fucked everything up. His friendship with Neil had just gone the same way as one of his discarded poems; it had been ruined with ugly scribbles and then scrunched up into a ball to be thrown in the trash.

He should have been more careful, more vigilant. If he’d seen Kevin and Neil in the crowd, things would have been different. But he couldn't take his words back, and now Neil knew. He _knew_ , and their friendship would be forever altered. Andrew might even have to move out. The thought was such a dark one that he slammed his fist into the wall just to be rid of it.

His knuckles singing, he made his way over to his shadow-drenched room and started packing an overnight bag. There was absolutely no way he could stay in the apartment tonight. He needed time, space, maybe even one of Renee’s homemade milkshakes. He zipped his bag closed, quickly sent her a text, and then stomped out of the dorm.

*

Renee opened the door in a nightie and a green silk bathrobe that looked a bit like a kimono. It was probably one of Allison’s, but Allison herself wasn’t around, which meant she was either in her studio pulling an all-nighter to finish her newest design or Renee had kicked her out so she and Andrew could have some privacy.

“I brought your t-shirt back,” Andrew blurted out, fishing for some semblance of an excuse as to why he was barging in on her like this. Renee looked at the shirt he was still wearing, raised a delicate eyebrow and wordlessly stepped aside to let him in.

Her room was gently lit by several strings of tiny lights and a paper lantern that she’d picked out at an antiques shop with Andrew last year. She had dumped her blankets on the floor and a packet of chocolate chip cookies with rainbow sprinkles stood opened and ready. After another look at Andrew, she disappeared and came back with two glasses, a pint of vanilla ice-cream and a bottle of Irish Cream that she plopped on the floor beside him.

“You look like shit,” she lovingly informed him, as if the alcohol wasn’t already a clear indicator of that very sentiment.

“Gee, thanks,” Andrew muttered, picking up the bottle. He poured some into the glass, ignoring the way his hands were visibly shaking, then dumped in some ice-cream and swirled it around, watching it melt into the Irish Cream. Renee gave him some time to sort his thoughts before gently prodding.

“So, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Andrew tried, deadpan, and got a matching deadpan look back for his trouble.

“Nothing wouldn’t have you rocking up at my place late at night looking five seconds away from a panic attack.”

“Maybe I just wanted a milkshake.”

“A very alcoholic milkshake,” Renee pointed out mercilessly. Andrew fretted at one of the fuzzy blankets and slipped it over his shoulders before knocking back the rest of his boozy ice cream slush. Then he opened his mouth and let the words rush out.

“I told him. About my… you know. Thing. Feelings thing.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Andrew sighed and peered into his empty glass.

“I may have,” he slowly admitted, “read out this stupid, crappy poem at the slam tonight. He wasn’t supposed to be there, but. He was.”

He swallowed and his vision went a little fuzzy. Maybe he’d had too much caffeine today, or maybe he shouldn’t have run all the way home, because his heart was thumping in his chest like he was about to pass out.

He let out a breath and fell back against the blankets, tangling his fingers in the soft fabric and looking up at the ceiling fan. _Calm down, shithead_ , he told himself, trying to focus on slowing his breathing.

“Want me to pick up where we left off?” Renee asked, grabbing a beat-up paperback from her bedside table. It was the sixth in a series of terrible paranormal romance books that followed the doomed romance between a human and an immortal princess during an epic faerie war. They’d been taking turns reading sections aloud to one another and had somehow gotten attached to the insipid, idiotic characters.

Andrew shrugged and Renee began reading. He’d have to reread the section over again later, because although the gentle, singsong lilt of Renee’s voice was calming, he couldn’t follow what she was saying at all. His mind was flooded with the image of Neil’s face in the crowd. It made his entire body feel like it was wilting like a dying wildflower. It made his heart beat even faster in his ribcage. He pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes and willed himself to think of nothing. Endless dark emptiness.

Renee’s phone began to vibrate on the table, eventually falling off the side and landing on the blankets next to Andrew. He grabbed it, took one look at Neil’s name filling up the screen, and crushed his thumb into the reject call button. Renee tucked her bookmark inside the pages and took it from him.

“He’ll be worried about you,” she said reasonably.

“I’m not seeing him,” Andrew told her stonily.

“Nobody said you have to,” Renee replied, just as her phone started ringing again.

Andrew didn’t move to take it but glared at her all the same.

“Hi,” she answered, keeping her eyes fixed on Andrew as she listened. “He is,” she said finally, shaking her head slightly when Andrew opened his mouth to protest.

“Neil,” Renee continued, her eyes glinting as her tone took on a rare, dangerous quality. “Do _not_ come here, understand?”

She listened for a short while longer before putting her phone down.

“He is not happy,” she said, her mouth curving once again into a smile as her expression softened. “You’re sure you don’t want to go home and straighten things out?”

“There’s nothing to straighten out,” Andrew said darkly. “The damage is done.”

Renee hummed thoughtfully.

“The next time I see him,” Andrew ground out, “everything will change.”

When Renee opened her mouth to respond, Andrew shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then we’ll just read for a while,” Renee said, reaching for the book and picking up where she’d left off.

Andrew sighed and laid back down. He watched the fan spin round and round until his eyes felt heavy and dry, like he hadn’t blinked in a long time. He closed them and he listened as Renee’s storytelling quietened to a gentle murmur, and for a moment or two, he forgot all about Neil, and the life-ruining disaster the entire night had been, and in that brief respite, as Renee whispered the final words of the chapter, he managed to fall asleep.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow us @ [annawrites (moonix)](http://annawrites.tumblr.com) (for quality cat content) & [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com) (for angst and aesthetiques)
> 
> the end is in sight, pals!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, you guys, our socks are blown off - we passed 1000 kudos! what a response! it's been a wildly wonderful ride and we are now reaching the end of our journey, please enjoy a light cruise through the last two chapters of unapologetic FLUFF. you deserve it.

He awoke to piercing sunshine and a pounding headache.

Groaning, he rolled over in his blanket nest and flung one arm over his eyes to shield them from the light. For a blissful moment, he couldn’t remember why he’d fallen asleep at Renee’s place; then the events of the night before came crashing into his brain like uninvited party guests, the shock of it squeezing a high whine from the back of his dry throat.

“Interesting,” someone said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in such a pitiful state before.”

“F’ckoff,” Andrew mumbled, trying to burrow underneath the blanket and preferably the floor as well.

“Renee had to go to class, but she left me in charge of hauling your sorry ass out of here,” Allison announced. “Just so you know, I took about ten pictures of you hugging that hideous stuffed spider, God knows why Renee even has that, so if you don’t want me to post those on every social media platform I know you’d better get up now. Oh, and there’s coffee.”

It took about twenty minutes, copious amounts of cold water and the smell of Allison’s espresso to get Andrew reasonably upright and into the kitchen. He inhaled a cup of coffee with hazelnut creamer and padded into Renee’s room to deposit the Hayley Kiyoko t-shirt in her laundry basket and swap it for her galaxy print hoodie. He was about to put his shoes on and begin his crawl of shame home when Allison stopped him in the hallway.

“Listen up, shrimp. I don’t know what you did, but Neil was all upset last night. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean you can mess him around now, is that clear? Because if you do, I will come after you with my five-inch stilettos and I  _ will  _ be aiming for your face.”

Andrew half-heartedly flipped her off and slammed the door shut behind him, his shoes still dangling from his hand.

He tugged them on as he awkwardly hopped down the stairs and strode out into a disgustingly sunny day. The sky was made-for-TV movie blue, splattered with a giant blob of bright golden sun. The air was refreshingly crisp and immediately cleared his head.

He knew he couldn’t hide forever.

It was much better to face things head-on, to quash any remaining sliver of hope and find out just how horrible things were going to be. From there, he could adapt. Start anew. He was good at that part, at least.

He walked across campus, making his way to his and Neil’s dorm, realising along the way that he had missed his shift at the supermarket. He was meant to start working at eight; it was now ten. He supposed he didn’t have time to worry about that right now. 

He unlocked the door and strode into the dorm, which was peacefully silent but for a few birds chirping merrily outside the kitchen window. For a second, he wondered if Neil was out. Maybe he had a school thing. Maybe he’d gone to the supermarket to ambush Andrew, thinking he’d be there. A shuffle of movement by the sofa pushed such thoughts from his mind. Neil had turned and was now peeking at Andrew from where he was sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the blank, dark television, still wearing his sweater from the night before and tucked under a blanket that was littered with scraps of tangerine peel and popcorn. 

Once Andrew had regrouped, he sighed and walked over to where Neil was. He sat, landing on the floor across from Neil with a graceless thud, and ran a hand through his hair before looking up.

“Did you sleep?” Andrew drawled, taking in the streaks of purply grey lying underneath Neil’s eyes.

“No,” Neil admitted. “Did you?”

“Like a log,” Andrew replied truthfully. Ruining one’s own life was exhausting, apparently. 

“Well, good,” Neil said, forcibly smiling. He was antsy, fidgeting with the fraying corner of the blanket, but he didn’t look away. “That’s good. I- erm, Jeremy is covering for you, by the way. I thought I’d better ask him after- and then well, I talked to Renee and- I wasn’t sure if-”

“Stop babbling,” Andrew said.

“Right,” Neil said, taking a deep breath. “Right. I just- I didn’t  _ know _ , Andrew. How long have you-?” 

“A long time,” Andrew told him, gritting his teeth afterwards. “It doesn’t matter. It makes you uncomfortable. I can leave.”

“I don’t want you to  _ leave _ ,” Neil said quietly.

Andrew looked down at his hands and tried to gather up the spilled crumbs of his next words.

“Then what do you want?”

“I…”

Neil’s mouth twisted down, carving an unhappy dimple into his cheek. He picked up a bit of tangerine peel and started to fret it to pieces, making even more of a mess. Then he took a deep breath and looked Andrew in the eyes again.

“I missed you,” he said, rough-spun and plain, yet all Andrew felt was satin and silk. Neil wasn’t finished, though. He plowed on, in true Neil fashion, unstoppable even if Andrew had wanted to try: “The truth is, I really enjoyed being your fake boyfriend. Much, much more than I ever enjoyed going on all those dates. I tried not to think about it too much, because I knew you weren’t looking for a relationship and I wanted to respect that. So I guess… I want to ask you the same thing. What do you want?”

_ Everything _ , Andrew thought.  _ Anything. Whatever you’re willing to give. _

His fingertips were buzzing like a swarm of bees had taken up residence inside them. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch Neil, but he was afraid of tainting him, of infecting him with the same poison that was running through his own veins. He couldn’t have Neil. He shouldn’t have Neil. And yet--

“I want you,” tumbled out of his mouth, tasteless and chewed-up like an old piece of gum. Where he’d been clammy and shivering with nerves he now felt a sudden flush of heat crawl up his neck and wanted to claw at the hoodie to hide it, but he was petrified, unable to move even a single muscle under Neil’s heavy gaze.

After what felt like an eternity, Neil finally nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay what,” Andrew choked out, more breath than voice.

Neil shook the blanket from his shoulders and scooted closer, slowly reaching out to take one of Andrew’s cold hands in his warm ones. Andrew felt like he was going to shake apart at the simple touch. It took all of his willpower just to stay where he was and keep himself together.

“Andrew,” Neil began, tentatively and sweetly, “will you go on a date with me? A real one?”

Andrew huffed an incredulous laugh out of his nose. “Where would we go?”

Neil shrugged and looked down at their entwined hands. He was tracing a series of tiny hearts along the ridge of Andrew’s knuckles. “We could go to the waffle house.”

“The waffle house,” Andrew repeated blandly. Neil’s fingertips were impossibly soft against his skin. It was making him stupid.

“Why not?” Neil asked. “It’s our place.”

The sentiment was a familiar one to Andrew; he’d often thought the same thing. On countless occasions he and Neil had sat in a booth, in some sort of protective, warm imaginary bubble. They’d had simple silences and easy conversations; they’d studied or gossiped or just sat there and enjoyed a rare free Sunday afternoon. Such afternoons had felt infinite. Perfect. 

“When?” Andrew asked.

Neil raised his eyebrows as if to say,  _ do you even have to ask? _

“I’ll need to take a shower,” Andrew managed to reply. The thought that Neil wanted this-- _ really _ wanted this--was making him feel a little dizzy. He hoped that he wouldn’t wake up, sore and crooked, on Renee’s bedroom floor and discover this entire conversation had been a dream.

“I’ll take a power nap while you get ready,” Neil said.

“Okay,” Andrew said, squeezing down hard on Neil’s hand as he moved to let it go.

“I need to ask you something,” Neil blurted out before Andrew could stand. “Things have been confusing lately, but after last night- now that I know you want this too- I was wondering-”

“Yes?” Andrew prompted when Neil stopped talking.

“Could I kiss you?” Neil finished.

Andrew’s stomach seemed to do a somersault before melting completely, turning his insides to liquid. He’d been wanting to kiss Neil so badly for such a long time. The longing and waiting had been excruciating, but that was what made him certain he could wait a little longer. 

“Later,” he assured Neil. “After our date.”

Neil’s ears turned a bright shade of pink, making Andrew’s stomach reassemble itself just to implode all over again.

“Right,” Neil grinned as Andrew got up, still holding on to his hand. “Later.”

Andrew walked to his bedroom at a casual pace, took his time picking out clean clothes, then locked himself in the bathroom and spent several minutes mashing his face against his towel and breathing furiously. Then he took the world’s most thorough shower, brushed his teeth, flossed, and massaged product into his hair. When he was done he promptly worried that he’d put in too much effort considering Neil was just napping on the couch and had seen him in various states of gremlinage anyway.

As he finally exited the bathroom, it seemed that Neil had already finished his power nap, because he was nowhere to be seen. For one sinking moment Andrew wondered if it had all been a cruel prank, if Allison and the others were going to pop up any minute now to laugh at him, but then Neil’s bedroom door opened and Neil fell out, hopping on one foot as he pulled his socks on.

“Ready?” he panted. His hair was marginally less messy than it had been earlier and he’d also changed into fresh clothes. Andrew’s mouth went dry as he recognised the grey shirt he’d let Neil borrow all those weeks ago, before they’d started fake dating.

“I thought you gave that back.”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I… don’t know. Must have gotten mixed up with my things, sorry. Is that okay?”

“Fine,” Andrew muttered and swallowed. His hands already felt sweaty again. It was just the waffle house, he reminded himself forcefully. It was going to be like always, just with maybe, potentially, some extra bonus kissing at the end. Hopefully. “Let’s go.”

*

They travelled to the waffle house the usual way: pressed together on Andrew’s bike. Andrew felt strangely calm about it. Maybe that was because Neil was acting like the lovesick fool for once, fumbling with his helmet clip and asking if it was okay to hold onto Andrew’s waist even though he’d done it millions of times before. 

“Yes,” Andrew said. “I’d say if it weren’t okay and I would have before. You know this.”

Neil’s fingers danced nervously in front of Andrew’s stomach before lacing together decisively. 

“You’re right,” Neil said, his words lullaby-soft against Andrew’s neck. “I do know.”

Once they’d arrived, they grabbed some menus and took one of their usual booths. Neil was still flushed, though whether it was from the sharp wind or the brand new dating situation, Andrew wasn’t sure. He concluded it must be a mixture of both. 

“So, last night,” Neil said, putting away his menu and looking Andrew in the eyes. “I should probably explain why I was there in the first place.”

Andrew nodded his head, signalling for Neil to continue. 

“Like I said, I missed you,” Neil told him, the corner of his mouth twitching upward into a smile. “I was so busy because of the play, and then you said you couldn’t come to the poetry slam, and I thought I’d somehow messed things up. Like the fake dating had made things weird between us. I felt shitty, so I decided to go anyway, to this thing we usually went to together. I’d been confused for weeks, thinking about how maybe I did like you, for real, and I didn’t want to sit by myself, overthinking, so I invited Kevin.” 

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I know, but I wanted to tell you why I didn’t come after you, after you saw me,” Neil went on. “Kevin told me to give you some space. He said I owed you that.”

“You really didn’t know?” Andrew asked, because although he’d buried his feelings deep and never acted on them, they were so total and all-consuming, he’d often thought Neil  _ had _ to have started to wonder.

“No,” Neil replied, shaking his head. “I kind of- thought there might be something while we were fake dating, some kind of… mutual chemistry? Thing? But I thought if you really wanted it you’d act on it, say something. You’ve really felt this way for a long time?”

“Yes,” Andrew replied truthfully, watching the way Neil’s hands flattened against the tabletop, as if the world were shifting beneath him and he needed to steady himself.

“Since before all the dates?”

“Yes.”

“Shit,” Neil said, looking annoyed at himself. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Andrew said with a shrug. “You had your reasons.”

“I did,” Neil agreed. “I was looking for something, but I guess I’ve come to realise that I’d had it all along.”

Andrew’s stomach felt briefly electrified by those words, then promptly collapsed into a shivery jelly mess. He wasn’t sure if he could even eat a single bite today, though the daily special--carrot cake waffles with cream cheese frosting and caramelised walnuts--still sounded tempting.

He took a deep breath, slowly and quietly so Neil wouldn’t notice. He still half expected to simply vibrate apart at the seams at any moment. Keeping himself contained was proving unusually difficult, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Neil with the full force of his feelings, especially not when he actually had a chance at making this work.

The enormity of his task--keeping the flame of Neil’s interest going in his favour without accidentally extinguishing it simply by breathing--made his pulse roar in his ears and his hands sweat.

“I don’t want,” he began, struggling for words even as Neil’s face fell in anticipation of the other half of his sentence. “Nothing has to change,” he eventually forced out. “You don’t have to. We can just.”

“Yeah,” Neil said shyly, then bit his lip. It drove Andrew crazy to watch, so he dropped his gaze back to the menu. “Can I hold your hand, though? Is that okay? It’s just, I’ve been thinking about it, like, a lot.”

Andrew uncurled his hands from their petrified state and hastily wiped them on his jeans before offering one to Neil across the table. Neil carefully placed his own on top, but it was awkward, so Andrew turned his hand over and laced their fingers together instead, letting his thumb rub cautiously back and forth over a small scar on Neil’s hand.

Andrew was about half a second away from bursting into a million stars when they were interrupted by one of the waiters. 

“Oh my gosh, you two cuties are back again, huh? What can I get you boys today?”

Neil and Andrew both let go and pulled their hands back. Neil made a fuss looking at the menu again before ordering the lemon poppyseed waffles with blackberry compote. Andrew wasn’t sure what he ordered but he hoped it was the daily special, or that the words coming out of his mouth were at least somewhat coherent. The waiter chirped something and walked off again, leaving them in flustered silence.

“Can I ask you something?” Neil finally murmured. Andrew nodded, so Neil went on: “Why did you agree to the fake dating thing? I mean, that must’ve been…”

He grimaced, and Andrew rubbed a tired hand over his face.

“Not my brightest moment,” he admitted, mumbling into his palm. Neil let out a snort and tried to reel the rest of the laugh back in, pressing his lips together, but some of it still spilled out.

Andrew rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were almost twitching in response.

“You heard it all last night,” he reminded Neil, pursing his lips against the impulse. “You aren’t allowed to ask me any more questions. If anything, I’m the one who’s owed some humiliating truths.”

“Oh really?” Neil grinned. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who willingly got up on a stage and confessed his super secret feelings for me to a couple hundred people. But alright, hit me. What deep dark secrets do you wanna know?”

Andrew hummed as he pretended to think about it. Neil didn’t look ruffled and Andrew watched as his fingers glided across the tabletop, as if they were being drawn by some unknowable magnetic pull, eventually settling on top of Andrew’s hand. Andrew loosened his fist and allowed Neil to entwine their fingers again. He was about to resume the calming task of mapping out Neil’s hands with his own but Neil beat him to it, tracing tiny, soft lines along Andrew’s fingers. His touch was gentle, like the lightest of kisses, and Andrew’s heart appeared to hiccup in response. 

“Why?” he found himself asking.

“Why what?”

“Why me?”

“Because,” Neil said simply, “it’s easy with you. Being myself around you doesn’t require any effort.”

Neil twisted his lips to the side, his brow furrowing, and Andrew waited. 

“And because you make me laugh,” Neil said eventually. “You understand me and you trust me. And I trust you.”

“And why this?” Andrew went on. “We’ve established before that neither of us are the dating type.”

“I know,” Neil said. “We have our rituals and routines and it’s not our thing but- we’re here and well, it’s nice, isn’t it?”

The waiter sped past, placing their waffles on the table with a breezy  _ enjoy your meal _ to which neither of them responded. Andrew squeezed Neil’s hand gently and Neil squeezed back. The sweet and creamy smell of his daily special waffles wafted upwards and Andrew looked down at his knife and fork, suddenly resentful of their presence and the fact he’d have to let go of Neil’s hand to pick them up. He wondered if he could eat the waffles using only a fork. With his left hand. Reading his mind, Neil smiled amusedly, and the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. 

“It’s nice,” Andrew agreed.

He picked at the caramelised nuts with his left hand and Neil squeezed his fingers before reluctantly letting go so they could eat.

“Did I tell you about Kevin’s terrible plans for the next play?” Neil asked wryly after the first few bites. Andrew shook his head and Neil started to cheerfully pick apart all of Kevin’s ideas, and suddenly everything was back to normal, just the two of them eating waffles in their usual booth with the cracked leather seats and the plastic flowers tempting watery sunlight in through the dusty windows. Andrew’s insides still bubbled and fizzed over every time he told himself that this was different because it was a date, or when Neil immediately grabbed his hand again after Andrew finished his last bite, but other than that it was just a regular Saturday afternoon like any other.

After lazing about at the waffle house for a few hours, Andrew drove them to a nearby lake. It was still too cold to go swimming, but there was a pretty little forest path hugging the lake and there weren’t any people around, which made it a nice spot for a walk. Neil held his hand again as Andrew told him a bit about the short story he was planning to write for his prose workshop and the dumb ideas some of the other students in his class had come up with. Before he knew it, they’d circled the lake and the sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, fuzzing at the edges like threadbare fabric.

“Hey, so,” Neil said, smiling and flushed from the cold wind. His eyes dropped very obviously to Andrew’s mouth. “I know you technically said  _ after  _ our date, but…”

“Yes,” Andrew croaked out, too wired to put it off any longer.

“Yeah?” Neil echoed weakly.

“Yeah. If you want.”

“Yes,” Neil said quickly, “I do.”

They both stood there for a second, stiff and terrified, then Neil leaned in and very tenderly pressed the tiniest kiss to Andrew’s cheek.

Andrew shivered violently at the innocent contact, insides vibrating like a pull-string toy. He didn’t want Neil to see the heat crawling up his neck and cheeks, so he took Neil’s face in his free hand and rocked forward, brushing his lips over Neil’s still-pursed mouth. Neil let out an amused huff and Andrew kissed him again, convinced that Neil would hear his soul rattling around inside his body any moment now, but all Neil did was gently grab Andrew’s jacket and hold on as they kissed.

Eyes shut, Andrew tilted his head, so that their noses bumped together briefly, and he nudged Neil’s mouth open with his own. Neil made a pleasantly surprised noise that sent a shivery spark down Andrew’s spine. Kissing Neil felt impossibly good, far better than he could have ever imagined, and he didn’t want to do anything to mess it up for either of them. His heart seemed to fizz and spit like a firecracker while his bones felt like they were melting, becoming shapeless. 

More than anything, he hoped that the kiss felt as incredible to Neil as it did to himself. In a brief moment of panic, Andrew immediately convinced himself that the kiss would make Neil realise that he  _ did  _ only like Andrew as a friend and that he’d pull away, call the whole thing off, and ask Andrew to forget everything that had happened in the last few hours. Unable to shove aside the thought, he drew away, catching Neil’s bottom lip in a biting kiss as he went, and let his eyes flicker open. 

Neil sighed at the sudden loss of contact and Andrew observed him carefully. At first, Neil’s eyes remained closed and his lips were still parted and pursed. He looked so trusting and vulnerable in that moment, but Andrew was still unsure. What if he was just  _ putting up _ with being kissed? What if it felt strange for him but he didn’t want to break Andrew’s heart? Andrew started to ask if everything was okay--if Neil still wanted this--when Neil opened his eyes. He looked at Andrew with something like awe softening his gaze, like Andrew had just changed his entire world, and he raised his hand to Andrew’s jaw, stopping just before he reached skin.

“Is this okay?” Neil asked, his voice a loosely stitched-together murmur. “To touch you here?”

“It’s okay,” Andrew replied.

Neil’s fingers slowly wandered along his jaw, resting at his chin, then he pulled Andrew in for another kiss. His lips burned against Andrew’s, his sudden boldness telling Andrew everything he needed to know: that he had nothing to worry about. That Neil wanted this just as much as he did. The thought made Andrew feel almost dazed, sparking quiver-shocks of desire in his veins the same way whisky would tread a warm, intoxicating path there. He let Neil take the lead and before he knew it, they were stumbling backwards into the trees. In their quest to apparently kiss each other senseless, they nearly tripped, so Andrew twisted his hands in the fabric of Neil’s collar and deftly swung him around, so that they were leaning against one of the trees. Neil gasped and then laughed a little breathlessly.

“You’re good at this,” he mumbled. 

_ That’s because it’s you I’m kissing,  _ Andrew thought. Neil’s hands still carefully cupped his jaw while his own had made their way up the back of Neil’s neck to get tangled in his hair. 

Andrew took a deep breath and planted a few more firm pecks on Neil’s lips. Above them, rain clouds were gathering, scalloped and silver like oyster shells. Andrew could have happily kissed Neil for another few hours, but he also didn’t want them to get wet and cold in the impending storm. 

“We should head home,” Andrew said, causing Neil to make a pained sound. “It’s going to start raining soon.”

“Yeah,” Neil sighed. His eyes looked grey in the brewing gloom and Andrew felt the skin on his back pucker into goosebumps under their intense scrutiny. “Maybe…”

“Yeah?”

“Just one more?” Neil murmured, husky and low. And, well. What was Andrew supposed to do--say no to that?

*

Just one more kiss turned into several more kisses, and in the end they did get home soaked and shivering. Andrew entertained a short-lived fantasy of getting into the shower with Neil but shut it down immediately, not wanting to get too far ahead of himself. There would be plenty of time for things like that, if Neil wanted them too.

He changed into dry clothes in his room and made tea to warm them both up. Neil wrapped himself in a blanket and flung himself down on the sofa with his phone, tapping away and touching his lips from time to time like he was tracing the shape of Andrew’s mouth on his.

“Okay,” he said after a while, “I’ve updated Kevin. Think we should come clean to the others?”

Andrew grimaced into his tea. He hadn’t even thought of what they would tell them, but if he had a choice, he’d prefer to stick with a simple broke-up-and-got-back-together story rather than reveal to everyone that they’d just fake dated and now they were real dating because Andrew hadn’t been able to keep his feelings in his metaphorical pants.

“How about,” Neil said, “we tell them that we were just fake dating to mess with them, but then we let them figure out themselves that we’re-”

He faltered and flapped his hand around. Andrew resisted the urge to squirm himself so deep into his beanbag that no one would ever find him again.

“Together?” he suggested quietly.

“Together,” Neil agreed sheepishly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of tired of them all prying into our relationship all the time.”

“I thought that was half the fun for you,” Andrew grumbled.

“Yeah, well, that was before.” Neil’s eyes simmered with promise as he held Andrew’s gaze.

Andrew hummed and shrugged, handing permission over to Neil to do as he pleased. When it came down to it, he supposed it didn’t matter what Neil’s friends thought about the situation. They were  _ together  _ now. The word flitted around his mind, surrounded by a warm pumpkin lantern glow.  _ That  _ was all that mattered.

“Anyway.” Neil pointedly put his phone down and flicked it so that it skidded under the couch. Andrew watched it disappear and then his eyes swivelled back to Neil.

“Want to continue our Harry Potter movie marathon and order food?” Neil said, before shooting Andrew one of his infuriatingly charming lopsided grins. “Or something?”

Andrew acquiesced, shoving the Chamber of Secrets disc into the ancient DVD player they’d found at a second hand store while Neil called the pizza place.

They both ate about a slice and a half each as they watched Harry, Ron and Hermione start their second year at Hogwarts. For the first half of the movie, Neil remained seated on the floor, bouncing his leg up and down and notifying Andrew of all his thoughts about the characters and the plot. For someone who’d never seen a Harry Potter movie in his life, his predictions were actually fairly astute, though Andrew didn’t tell him so. Eventually, Neil tired himself out and joined Andrew on the couch. He gently asked if it was okay to lean against Andrew’s chest. Though they were ‘together’ now, the question still shot through Andrew like a whistling arrow. He cleared his throat and nodded his head and then Neil was curled up next to him, resting his head just below Andrew’s collarbone. After that, paying attention to the movie became a difficulty for both of them. They kept getting distracted, pulling one another in for slow, leisurely kisses or even just looking at each other. They’d lounged on the couch together countless times before but this felt completely different and they both knew it. It was new and exciting. A tiny and brilliant miracle. It was like they were communicating in a language they’d only just discovered the other could speak. 

Eventually, the movie ended and the credits rolled. The menu came back on the screen and the music began to loop. 

All the while, Andrew and Neil were still kissing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if ya wanna follow this dream team on tumblr, swing by [annawrites (moonix)](http://annawrites.tumblr.com) and [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com). or subscribe to us on AO3!
> 
> one more chapter to go - your favourite losers still need to come clean to their friends... stay tuned to find out more next week!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the last chapter! ty so much to everyone who read the fic and left us kudos and lovely comments. writing this together was a blast. 
> 
> and now: more emotional catharsis. enjoy! xo

“You ready?” Neil muttered, squeezing Andrew’s hand. Across the quad, Neil’s friends and Andrew’s family were draped over two picnic benches like a pride of lions. On one bench, Allison was yelling and Dan was cackling as Matt and Renee looked on fondly. On the other, Kevin and Aaron were working in their notepad and sketchbook respectively, looking deeply annoyed by the racket, while Nicky napped with his head pillowed in his arms.

“Did I forget to tell you today that I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what they think?” Andrew replied. “Because I don’t.”

“Yeah, well.” Neil cringed slightly. “I got us into this mess and I’ll get us out of it, okay?”

“Okay,” Andrew repeated.

Neil squeezed his hand again and then Andrew was being pulled in the direction of the benches.

“Hey,” Neil called out loudly as he plonked himself into a spare space, tugging Andrew down with him.

“Hey,” Kevin replied, without even looking up from his notepad.

“Um. Last I heard, you two broke up,” Nicky said tiredly, peering up at them through his sleep-mussed hair.

“Yeah,” Matt agreed, furrowing his brow in confusion. “That’s what I thought.”

“Oh, that?” Neil replied. “No. That was all fake. Basically, I got sick of you all snooping into my personal life so we decided to give you something else to gawk at.”

“But-” Nicky began. “The Instagram-”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but the dates and the photos and the break up were all just part of the joke,” Neil went on.

“Ha ha,” Dan said sarcastically, looking between Allison and Renee and Matt as if they had any answers to what the hell was going on.

“Okay. Back up. If you two were ‘fake dating’,” Allison snapped, making quotation marks with her fingers, “then what the hell is _that_?”

She dramatically pointed at Neil and Andrew’s locked hands which were laying on top the table. Everyone moved to look, mouths hanging open. Andrew just shrugged as Neil kicked his legs up onto the bench and then casually rested them across Andrew’s lap.

“Real dating?” Neil suggested smugly.

“This is literally going to be the cause of my death,” Nicky said weakly.

Andrew privately thought the same. He’d lost track of how many places his and Neil’s body were touching and all he could smell was Neil’s ridiculously fruity apple shampoo. Across the table, Aaron was attempting to communicate telepathically with him--probably to tell him “I fucking knew it” and “You’re the biggest fucking idiot in this entire solar system and I can’t believe we share all of our genes”--but Andrew pointedly ignored him.

“Let me get this straight,” Allison was still trying to make sense of everything, drawing a complicated diagram on the table with her fingernails. “You two decided to fake a relationship and a break-up, just to be difficult. And then, just to be even more difficult, you, what--decided you were going to get back together, except for real this time? Why?”

“Becauuusseee,” Neil drawled, leaning against Andrew’s side and snagging a handful of grapes from an open container. He offered one to Andrew, who somehow managed to pluck it from his fingers with his teeth without touching Neil or having an aneurysm. “No offense, but the sexual tension was killing us and we realised we wanted to do it for real.”

Andrew choked a little on his grape as the rest of the table erupted in noise. Aaron mimed throwing up into his drink, but the general consensus with the others seemed to be that Neil openly expressing interest in sex was a cause for celebration. Andrew cast about for something safe to look at and found himself mesmerised by the pink tip of Neil’s ear.

His brain stopped functioning for a moment and he leaned down to kiss it. Neil startled and made a tiny, quiet “ah” sound that only Andrew heard. It reverberated in Andrew’s soul like a pebble thrown into a very still lake.

Neil turned his head to look at him and Andrew saw with something like delight that Neil’s ears had turned an even deeper shade of pink.

“Hmm,” Neil hummed, a devious gleam in his eyes, “actually, maybe we should go… home…”

Andrew knew he was only acting for the sake of causing a minor scandal, but he was starting to think going home was a good idea, otherwise he was going to spontaneously combust in front of everyone.

“Okay, okay, wait,” Allison shouted over the din. “We still haven’t figured out who’s going to shovel talk whom. Last I checked, Renee called dibs on Neil and everyone else was too chickenshit to claim Andrew?”

Matt squared his shoulders. “I’ll do it, Neil’s my best friend.”

Kevin spluttered indignantly at the other end of the table.

“Excuse you, he was _my_ best friend first! And for your information, I have already given Andrew a shovel talk!”

“Guys, guys,” Neil grinned, lifting his hands placatingly. “You can _all_ shovel talk him. Let me just get popcorn first.”

“I thought we were going home,” Andrew said pointedly.

“Fine,” Neil sighed with an extra flair of petulance, then dropped his voice to a suggestive stage-whisper. “But only if you do that thing. You know. The one I like.”

He winked at Andrew, who could think of about ten thousand _things_ he could do to Neil once they got home. When his brain had recovered enough for coherent thought, he took a moment to wonder if Neil was putting on a show for their friends or if he was doing it specifically to torment Andrew instead.

Finally, he began wondering what type of _things_ Neil would be interested in. If he were interested at all, that is. They hadn’t exactly talked through the logistics or established any boundaries yet.  

They had all the time they needed, but even so, Andrew made a mental note to ask later. In private.

“Wait. You two aren’t _actually_ going home just to make out, are you?” Aaron asked, yanking Andrew out of his wandering thoughts. “Andrew. You have class in like, twenty minutes.”

Andrew momentarily froze as the realisation crept through him. With all the personal drama and sudden changes going on in his life, he’d completely forgotten to think about boring things like his schedule. But Aaron was right; he _did_ have class.

“Neil and I already got As for the play,” Kevin said, glaring at Andrew warningly as if to say, _you better not ditch_. “You still need to do your final.”

Andrew slid his gaze to Neil, who just shrugged and offered Andrew an apologetic grin. “Guess we’ll just have to wait.”

...

Andrew endured his seemingly endless lecture until his professor finally let them know what the last assignment would be. He scribbled it down and hoped he’d be able to come up with something readable before the deadline next week. His chair creaked out a sigh of relief when he got to his feet after they were eventually dismissed. He walked out of the lecture theatre and onto the quad, retrieving his phone from his pocket as he went.

Neil: boring here without you

Neil: see you at home?

Andrew typed out a hopefully-coherent response and headed in the direction of their dorms. When he got home, Neil was sitting curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand. Andrew’s own, still-steaming mug sat waiting for him on the table. An ugly dog’s face was emblazoned on the side, with the words _a pug of tea_ underneath. He grabbed it and took a sip before sitting down.

“You’ll never guess what I found out today,” Neil said, clinking their mugs together in a cheers. “Kevin is writing his _own play_ for next year’s production.”

“Based on his life?”

“Apparently. Hope I don’t have to play myself.”

“Or worse, him.”

“Would be fun if I got to play you, though,” Neil grinned. “I’d have to borrow some more of your clothes…”

Andrew, who had just noticed that Neil was wearing his sweater, plucked at the fabric and raised his eyebrow at him.

“Seems you don’t need an excuse to do that.”

Neil had the good graces to look somewhat sheepish while snuggling down further into the sweater.

“Allison said that’s what people do when they have boyfriends.”

“Is that so,” Andrew hummed, finding himself very close to Neil, who gave him a playful nudge with his nose.

“Yep,” he murmured. “I don’t make the rules.”

Andrew rolled his next question around in his mouth for a moment, wondering if it was the right time to bring this up.

“And are there any rules about,” he said slowly, catching the hem of the sweater between his fingers, “taking your own clothes off your boyfriend?”

The word still made him feel a little queasy, a little wrong-footed. Neil had said it first though, and Andrew wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

“Depends,” Neil said. “Are we talking hypothetical rules for hypothetical boyfriends or-”

“Us,” Andrew said quickly and let go of the sweater. “I’m talking about us.”

Neil leaned in for a small kiss, then picked up one of Andrew’s hands and coaxed it out of the stiff curl it had been in, aligning their palms.

“I,” he said haltingly, “I’m not sure, to be honest.”

“We can take it slow,” Andrew suggested. “See what works for us and what doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” Neil nodded, squeezing Andrew’s hand. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He was quiet for a moment, still playing with Andrew’s hand, then his gaze flickered briefly up to Andrew’s face and back down.

“Do you, I mean. Would you still? Want to be with me, even if I don’t…?”

“Even if you don’t what?”

“Want to sleep with you,” Neil muttered apologetically. “I mean, I’m not saying I don’t, or won’t, ever, but- I guess I just- need to know.”

“Yes,” Andrew said simply. He didn’t say that he’d never thought he could have even this, that he would have stayed with Neil to the end of time, or as long as Neil wanted him to, even if Neil had told him after the poetry slam that he didn’t see Andrew that way and never would.

The tension left Neil’s hunched frame bit by bit. He nodded to himself and mumbled “yes, ok, yeah,” a few times until Andrew tugged him against his side and kissed him again. Neil melted into the kiss, then forcibly pulled himself away from it and looked consideringly at Andrew. A small grin popped his mouth open at the side, exposing a slightly crooked tooth.

“I bet you’re really good at it, though,” he murmured, ears turning pink again. “You’re the best kisser I’ve ever met, and Allison said-”

Andrew had no choice but to shut him up again with another kiss.

*

Neil slowly migrated into Andrew’s room over the course of the week. While Andrew would have happily spent countless hours entangled in bed, chatting and kissing, it was also excruciatingly distracting having him in there as Andrew had to work on his final. Neil did his best to stay out of Andrew’s way, entertaining himself by bringing Andrew snacks and coffee throughout the day and taking care of dinner in the evenings. He’d sometimes lie on the bed and flip through Andrew’s beat-up poetry and short story collections, always waiting until Andrew was finished working before gushing or ranting about whatever he’d just read. It was annoying not being able to focus all his attention on Neil in the first week of their new relationship, but it was necessary, so Andrew just poured all his pent-up energy into his assignment.  

Once he’d submitted the short story (which was more of a long poem by the end), he found Neil waiting for him in the lounge with a mischievous look on his face. He was ushered into the bathroom and told to change into the outfit Neil had laid out for him and then they were on the road, riding to some mystery location. Because of the nice outfits, Andrew assumed Neil had made reservations at some fancy restaurant. Instead, when he was instructed to stop at some sleek, modern-looking Italian place, Neil told him to stay with the bike. Andrew smoked a cigarette while he waited and Neil eventually emerged around ten minutes later carrying a white plastic bag.

“Let’s go,” he said, hopping back onto the bike once he’d carefully placed the bag into his mysteriously full backpack. “It’s not far, now.”

“Okay,” Andrew said. His voice was all rough and worn down, though whether it was because it had been sandpapered by cigarettes and a week of hibernating or because he wasn’t used to being surprised, he wasn’t sure.  

They drove for another mile or so. As they twisted down empty roads, the clouds became less densely clustered above them, fading into a fine, translucent mist and then finally disappearing altogether to reveal a clear night sky populated by an entire city of stars.

They pulled into a rest stop and Neil led Andrew down a narrow, wooded pathway until they came to an empty clearing. It was quiet, except for the sound of the breeze rustling through the trees, and it felt like they could almost be the only people for miles around, even though Andrew could still see the moving glow of headlights in the distance.

Neil unzipped his backpack and pulled out a chequered blanket which he unfolded and smoothed out before offering Andrew an expectant look. Andrew swallowed thickly and went over to join him. Neil started pulling out various polystyrene cartons and lining them up on the blanket before finally taking out a dark glass bottle and two scratched up plastic flutes.

“It’s prosecco,” Neil said apologetically. “Not champagne. Sorry.”

“What’s the difference?” Andrew asked. “They’re both fizzy and alcoholic.”

“Very true,” Neil replied as he began twisting the cork, eventually releasing it and letting it bounce across the grass when it let out a gunshot-loud pop. He filled the plastic flutes until the bubbles nearly spilled over the brim and then handed one to Andrew before raising his glass.

“To making it through the school year with minimal disasters,” he said.

Andrew hummed and clacked his flute against Neil’s in agreement before taking a sip.

The containers from the Italian restaurant were full of Andrew’s favourite pasta dishes, except for one which had a small, cocoa-dusted mountain of tiramisu in it. They ate their fill and then slowly finished off the prosecco as they watched the stars, pointing out make-believe constellations.

Once stargazing eventually turned into kissing and kissing eventually turned into yawning, they made their way back to the bike. Andrew held Neil’s gaze as Neil put on his helmet, the words _thank you_ dancing on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t used to people doing nice things for him. He was even less used to letting them know that he appreciated it.

Somehow, Neil seemed to get it, as he just smiled and shook his head.

“I owe you,” he said. “For the lobster, remember?”

“That doesn’t count,” Andrew said. “That wasn’t a real date.”

“Wasn’t it?” Neil countered teasingly. Andrew made a so-so motion with his hand and slid onto the bike.

“We might have to do it again,” he said. “Just to be sure.”

“Ah,” Neil said wisely and found his seat behind Andrew. “Yeah, you might be right. Can I kiss your neck?”

“If you want,” Andrew said, suppressing a shiver. He fussed with the straps of his helmet, waiting for Neil’s mischievous mouth on his skin, but he still wasn’t prepared for the fizzy-bubbly sensation that sang down his spine when it happened.

“Oh,” Neil said, delight flickering brightly in his voice. “You liked that?”

Andrew muttered something unintelligible and Neil chuckled and pressed himself against Andrew’s back, tightening his arms around him.

“Let’s go home,” he said as Andrew revved the engine. “I wanna see what else I can do with the information that my boyfriend likes having his neck kissed.”

*

_(Six months later)_

“...congratulations again to our finalists, we’ve heard some great stuff here tonight, let’s have another round of applause for everyone who had the guts to get up on this stage today!”

Andrew ran his thumb along the edges of his lucky cat charm. The paint was rubbed clean off in some places now and Neil had sworn he would get him a new one, but Andrew was rather attached to this one. It had been through a lot with him, after all.

“The bar’s still open for anyone who wants a drink, and don’t forget that you can buy Andrew’s zine at the front desk, it’s a total must-have and if you don’t already own three copies, what the hell are you even doing with your life?”

As if sensing his glare, Laila turned around and blew him a kiss. Andrew rolled his eyes and tucked his lucky cat back into his pocket. He hadn’t won tonight’s poetry slam, but he was mostly only here to sell his zine and make Kevin shut up about marketing strategies and _establishing a brand_ and whatnot. He had to spend enough time with Kevin as it was these days, writing his play for him--it turned out Kevin was a great director but absolutely sucked at putting words together on a page, and after his first draft had been boycotted by the entire drama society Neil had somehow talked Andrew into collaborating on the project with him. Kevin thought he had to repay the favour by turning Andrew into the next J.K. Rowling, even though all he’d published so far was this pitiful zine his creative writing professor had suggested. Just the thought of anyone having a physical copy of his poems still made Andrew’s skin crawl some days, but it was too late now; they were out there, and at least he’d sold enough of them now that he’d made up the printing cost.

With a sigh, he set up shop at the front desk, daring anyone to stop and buy one and making little trails across the paper tablecloth with the literary society’s stamp. A few people were brave enough to pick up a copy on their way out, and one girl even had the mad idea of asking him to sign hers--Andrew merely stared her down until she went away.

“What about mine? Will you sign it in exchange for a kiss?”

Neil, who had bought about ten copies already, popped up beside the table like a jack-in-the-box and reverently fingered the remaining stack like he was thinking of taking them home with him and making sweet, sweet love to them. Andrew wished Neil would take _him_ home instead to make sweet, sweet love to him, but he’d unfortunately agreed to go out for celebratory burgers with Neil and his insufferable posse of friends after the slam.

Somehow, Andrew had expected his relationship with Neil to be filled with a lot more “no”s. As it was, Andrew increasingly found himself saying “yes” to almost anything Neil asked--and not just because Neil looked unfairly attractive and stupidly hot when he asked. As for the sweet, sweet love-making…

Well.

It hadn’t quite happened yet, but they were both still learning new ways to be intimate with each other every day, and Andrew wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Neil,” Andrew said, interrupting Neil mid-sales pitch as he tried to get everyone who walked past to buy a copy of the zine. “I’m done here, let’s go.”

He left the last of the zines with Laila, pulled on his jacket and reeled Neil in close by his belt loops, resting a hand on his hip as they walked. Neil leaned against him with a happy sigh and glanced at the night sky.

“I think the others are betting about us again.”

“What is it this time?” Andrew asked.

“I don’t know, Allison wouldn’t tell me,” Neil scowled. “Probably something ridiculous though, like how many corgis we’re going to adopt once we’re married.”

“I prefer pit bulls.”

“I don’t hear you complaining about the marriage part,” Neil grinned. “Man, this whole dating thing really backfired on us. Do you maybe think we should fake break up again just to get them to back off?”

“No,” Andrew said a little too vehemently, digging his fingers into Neil’s sweater. “No more fake break-ups. No more fake anything.”

Neil smiled fondly at him and leaned in to tuck a cold-nosed kiss against the side of Andrew’s neck, smirking when he shivered in response.

“Alright. No more faking. Did I mention I’m more of a cat person?”

“Only about three hundred and eighty-four times.”

“Oh well. One more can’t hurt.”

Andrew made a point of pinching his hip and Neil squirmed against him with an indignant huff. They reached the burger place and Andrew pulled Neil back from the door just as he was about to enter, gently crowding him up against the wall for one last kiss before his friends swept him away with their bets and their meddling and their noise.

Something crinkled under Neil’s jacket. Andrew tugged the zipper down and lifted the fabric, revealing yet another copy of his zine tucked into the inner pocket.

“Oops?” Neil grinned. “I just couldn’t help myself. I’ll pay for your burger, promise.”

“For the next poetry slam I am going to write about my kleptomaniac boyfriend,” Andrew threatened half-heartedly. Neil preened and stole another kiss before snatching his hand and pulling him into the diner.

“Do it,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Your poems about me always end up winning.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, you can find us on tumblr at [annawrites (moonix)](http://annawrites.tumblr.com) (where the fandom is blessed pretty much on the daily) and [lolainslackss](http://lolainslackss.tumblr.com) (where i will be pondering the meaning of my existence now that this fic is finished)
> 
> come say hello if u want!
> 
> ty ly bb


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